


Beginnings

by ImperialKatwala



Series: We're Only Young [15]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: A little bit of violence, And NOT FROM DADZA, Birthday Fluff, Bonding Time, Child Abuse, Dream please understand that these boys care about you, Fishing, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Have some good Dadza, How have I not added that tag yet, Hurt/Comfort, Hybrid!Techno and hybrid!Phil, Language Barrier, Light Angst, Light theivery, Phil adopts a second child, Poor Sapnap, Potatoes, Protective Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Running Away, Shapeshifter Wilbur Soot, Techno panics a little, The Nether (Minecraft), Thunderstorms, Video Game Mechanics, We've gotten into Dream's backstory now, just a little, phil has wings because i say so, they're working on it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:08:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 34,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28375182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImperialKatwala/pseuds/ImperialKatwala
Summary: Every story has a beginning, and people's stories are no different. Often, the start of a story can determine the course of the remainder, so it is occasionally necessary to see where someone came from to understand how they got to where they are.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Darryl Noveschosch & Sapnap, Technoblade & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & Technoblade
Series: We're Only Young [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2021213
Comments: 667
Kudos: 1021





	1. Hybrid (Phil)

Some people said that Phil overprepared. In fact, that's what most people said in the small village he had moved to. He overprepared, he was paranoid, he would never need as many supplies as he seemed to think. Phil disagreed; after so long avoiding death, and so long on his own, he had learned the value of being ready for any eventuality. And that mindset is what drove him to the Nether for potion supplies.

This was far from his first trip to the fiery landscape while he'd lived here. Phil already had a small Nether wart farm and a decent amount of blaze powder, but he needed ghast tears and magma cream. Just in case.

He made sure he was wearing his gold boots and that he had all of his gear: sword, bow, shield, potions, armor, food. He should be set. Nodding to himself, Phil stepped into the swirling purple mist of the Nether portal.

It was always uncomfortable going to the Nether; Phil held his breath, knowing that inhaling would feel like breathing in fire, feeling warmth crackle against his skin in a way that was almost painful but not quite. Then he was through, and the purple of the portal gave way to the bright red of a crimson forest.

Phil's hunt started off well. He managed to find a magma cube in fairly short order, which gave him a fair amount of magma cream, and he picked off two ghasts, which dropped a tear each.

He was fairly familiar with the Nether at this point. He knew what dangers it held and how to deal with them, or better, how to avoid them. Of course, he knew better than to let his guard down, but he felt fairly confident in his ability to handle anything he may encounter.

As it turned out, the Nether could still surprise him.

He was skirting a bastion when he first saw it: a flash of pink, darting between two rocks. Red was a typical color in this realm, but pink was unusual. Phil paused and watched for a moment, but when nothing else appeared, he cautiously moved on. Getting distracted by something unusual for too long in the Nether was a death sentence, and though respawning was possible on this server, Phil had lived too long in a hardcore world to shake the habits that came with it.

He saw it again, though, a few minutes later. A small flash of pink, there and gone again. If he hadn't been looking for it, he wouldn't have seen it. What _was_ it?

"Hello?" Phil called cautiously, resting a hand on the hilt of his sword.

The area near him grew almost unbearably still. There was no movement, no sound. Just Phil and the gentle popping of lava from somewhere nearby.

Then, silent and swift, the little pink blur darted over a nearby rock, and Phil barely had enough time to draw his sword before it was on him and blades clashed.

It was a _child,_ Phil realized in gut-wrenching horror, a pink-haired child wielding a chipped and broken golden sword with practiced ease, a child with hatred in their eyes and a piglin's ears. They snarled, and Phil got a good look at their tusks, still tiny, still small enough to be hidden in their mouth. A hybrid. Phil's heart plummeted into his boots; he was well-acquainted with how cruel humans could be toward those deemed to be _other._

Almost instinctively, Phil's wings, which had until this point been folded neatly against his back, opened to their full width and beat once.

The child stumbled back in shock, and Phil used the opportunity to take several steps back and sheathe his sword, holding his hands up to show he was unarmed.

"It's okay, mate," he said softly, trying not to upset them. "I'm sorry I startled you."

Ears flicking uneasily, the child tightened their grip on the sword. They did not back down, but they also didn't attack, which was a relief. They had the stance of a seasoned fighter, and Phil's heart ached to see it. They were so small, they were so _young,_ no child should have a stance like that. No child should wield a sword so easily and so well.

Moving slowly, telegraphing his movements as clearly as he could, Phil took a golden carrot out of his inventory and set it on the ground, then backed away.

He could see how the child's attention was instantly captured as soon as they realized what the item was, and something unpleasant churned in his gut. How long had it been since they had eaten? One of the only food sources he could think of in the Nether was hoglins, and they were notoriously difficult to kill. Certainly there were no carrots in the Nether.

The child took a half-step toward him and paused, watching him intently. When he didn't move, they inched forward one cautious step at a time, their eyes never leaving him, then snatched the carrot and darted back to their original position. They turned it over in their tiny hands for a moment, then quickly began gnawing on it.

Phil watched them as they ate with frenzied desperation, like someone or something could interrupt them at any time, and they had to finish as much as they could before they were chased off. The habits of a scavenger. He had been right; this child wasn't strong enough or skilled enough to hunt for their own food. When they finished, he carefully tossed another carrot to land a few feet from them, trying to ignore how they flinched away and raised their sword.

"I'm not gonna hurt you," Phil assured them, though he had no idea if they understood him. There was no telling how long they had been here. Instead, he put his hands back up and knelt down, folding his wings back in to look as harmless as possible. "It's okay."

The child hesitated, waiting for him to move again. After a few long seconds of staying still, they picked up the other carrot and ate it too, maintaining eye contact.

"More?" Phil asked, holding up a third carrot.

No verbal response, yet again, but he saw the way the child looked at it. He tossed it to them.

Instead of eating it, the child stuffed the carrot into a small, worn-out leather pouch on their belt and darted away.

Phil watched them go, knowing exactly how they felt. He had been in their shoes once, many years ago, shunned for daring to exist. He knew what is was like to view trust as a weakness, a danger. And he knew that even if the world forgot about the child, he never would. Even if he never saw them again, he would always wonder if they were alright, if they were still surviving. At least he had helped them a little.

With a sigh, Phil stood and kept walking.

Ghasts proved scarce in this section of the Nether, though he did encounter another magma cube. There were no more flashes of pink.

Finally, after what must have been half an hour of wandering, he spotted a ghast. It shrieked, a horrible, ear-splitting cry, and shot a fireball - but not at Phil. Its target was a small outcropping of netherrack several yards back, and Phil couldn't for the life of him figure out why until he saw a tiny pink blur dart out from behind it just before impact.

The child - had they been following him this whole time? - was thrown back with the force of the explosion, making a tiny squeak of pain as they hit the netherrack. After a brief moment, they forced themself to stand, wobbly and obviously in pain, one arm wrapped around their stomach. They had dropped their sword in the explosion, but they bared their tiny tusks at the ghast anyway.

The ghast screamed again.

Phil didn't even think.

One moment he was standing out in the open, several yards from the flaming crater, sword in hand. The next, he was in front of the child, wings flared, shield braced for impact.

The fireball connected and exploded, but the wood hummed with enchantments, and Phil and the child were unaffected by the blast. The instant the coast was clear, Phil dropped the shield and pulled out his bow, taking aim and firing with the ease of long practice.

The ghast went down in one shot.

Phil glanced down to see that the ghast had been above lava, sighed in disappointment, then turned to the child.

They growled at him, back pressed against the netherrack. He was shocked they hadn't bolted yet.

Phil put his bow away and pulled in his wings, carefully kneeling down. "You alright, mate?"

Obviously, the answer was no. They were terrified and in pain and he was a clear threat. But asking made him feel better, and even if the child couldn't understand the words, his soft tone seemed to assure them he wasn't about to attack, because the growling slowly stopped. Their ears gradually began to relax from where they had laid flat against the child's head.

"I won't hurt you, I promise," Phil continued. "It's alright."

Another ghast cried out in the distance, and the child's ears flattened again as they pressed themself further against the netherrack, snarling not in anger, but in fear.

Phil glanced over his shoulder. He could only barely see the ghast, but it did seem to be coming closer. "Okay, it's alright, we're safe for the moment, but we need to move, alright?"

The child stopped snarling, but didn't move.

Okay. Time to improvise a little. Phil picked up his shield and held it in the ghast's direction, then turned back to the child and beckoned to them, keeping the shield up.

Luckily, that seemed to do the trick. The child cautiously edged to their left, away from Phil, and Phil moved to shield them accordingly. Their confidence seemingly bolstered, they began taking larger and larger steps out of the open cavern, back the way they had come. Phil followed. He kept his shield between the ghast and the child until they were safely behind another netherrack outcropping, scooping up the child's sword as he went; only then did he put the shield back in his inventory.

The child's knees buckled, and they collapsed against the netherrack, sliding slowly to the ground with a huff of pain.

"It got you good, didn't it?" Phil muttered, kneeling down to assess the damage. Superficial burns, probably lots of bruises. Nothing irreversible.

They made a soft little snuffling sound. Phil noted happily that their ears were slowly relaxing.

Again, Phil barely needed to think. He took out a healing potion and set it down on the ground in front of the child. "Drink this, it'll help."

The child eyed it warily, drawing their legs closer to their chest and further from the suspicious glass bottle. Their gaze flicked up to Phil.

Phil mimed drinking from a glass. "Drink."

Slowly, very slowly, the child reached out and picked up the bottle. They pulled out the cork and sniffed, sneezing adorably as the strong scent of Nether wart and glistering melons hit their nose.

"Sorry about that, mate," Phil chuckled. "Healing potions aren't exactly made to taste good, they're made to be effective. Though maybe that's just me."

The child glanced between Phil and the bottle several times. Then, determination sparking in their eyes, they took a swig of the potion. They shuddered as the tingly, almost burning feeling of magic surged through them, no doubt also feeling the discomfort of damaged skin rewriting itself.

Potions weren't comfortable things. They were useful, which is why Phil made sure he always had some handy, but it didn't feel good to use them.

The child blinked in shock at their arms, which were free of burns and bruises. They took a deep breath and wriggled a little, eyes widening in surprise when neither action hurt.

"Feeling better?" Phil asked with a smile.

With only a moment of hesitation, the child took another sip of the potion. Then, they held the bottle out to Phil. "'Rin'."

Phil froze. "... What?"

"'Rin'!" the child repeated. They held out the bottle with one hand and copied Phil's 'drink' gesture with the other.

Slowly, Phil took the half-full potion bottle. "Drink?"

The child nodded.

Well, how could he say no to that? Phil drank the rest of the potion, feeling the paper cut he got that morning and a muscle he had pulled earlier right themselves.

With a firm, satisfied nod, the child stood and hurried away from their little area of sanctuary. They paused and glanced back at Phil for just a moment, then vanished behind a netherrack wall.

Phil was left sitting on the ground with an empty bottle and a mind spinning with questions. The child was _smart,_ and learned very, very fast. They were also much kinder than Phil had anticipated, given their dangerous environment.

... How long had this child been alone?

Phil shook off the thought and stood, putting the empty bottle back in his inventory. He'd gathered enough potion ingredients for today.

The journey back to the portal was relatively uneventful; he saw a few endermen and piglins, but antagonized none of them, so they left him alone. The only real enemy he encountered was a hoglin, which he shot and killed without much difficulty.

When he reached the small stone building that shielded the portal, he ducked inside (leaving the door open) and paused for a moment, sitting down with his back against the frame of the portal.

The hum of the portal muffled any sound the child might have made, but after a few minutes, a tiny face peeked around the edge of the doorway.

Phil smiled. "Hey."

They blinked at him and didn't move.

Phil took the broken sword out of his inventory and set it on the ground in front of him, leaning forward as far as he could to set it far away before sitting back.

The child's eyes lit up and they gasped, darting forward to grab the sword. They gave it a few practice swings, and Phil realized that they were actually smiling. And they didn't back away from him.

"I haven't seen anyone else here with you," he told the child quietly, "so I think it's safe to assume you're alone."

The child didn't reply, of course. They just tilted their head slightly to one side.

Phil glanced at the portal. "You know, my house is big enough for two. I live just outside of town, so there would be no one to bother us, and I can grow you a lot of carrots if you want them. I have a lot of farmland that I've been meaning to cultivate."

The child blinked at him, making another small snuffling sound.

With a smile, Phil stood and held out his hand. "You can come with me if you want."

It suddenly seemed to register what Phil was asking, because the child's eyes darted back and forth between Phil and the portal. They gripped the hilt of their sword tighter, and their ears flattened.

Phil kept his smile gentle and his hand extended.

For a long moment, the child didn't move. Then, slowly, they inched forward and rested their hand very lightly on Phil's own, as if ready to tear it away in a heartbeat.

Phil's smile widened, and he gently led the child through the portal.

Time to go home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phil really said "Does this kid have anybody to take care of him?" and didn't wait for an answer
> 
> Next chapter will be from Techno's perspective :)


	2. Hybrid (Techno)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a retelling of the last chapter from Techno's perspective! He just isn't called Techno yet at this point in the story. Don't worry, we'll get there :)

Runt had a vague idea that his life wasn't normal.

Piglins lived in bastions when they were his size. Adults watched over them and protected them rather than chasing them off. They all had words that were theirs, words that referred to them and no one else, that were said kindly rather than shouted.

Runt supposed he was lucky, though. He had _two_ his-words, though he wasn't certain they were very nice, since they were never said in a nice way. Everyone who ever saw him, as far back as he could remember, called him 'runt' or 'hybrid.' He liked the sound of Hybrid better, but the piglins called him Runt so often he figured it must be his proper his-word. He wasn't sure what the other one was for, if not to use, but no one was willing to explain it.

Humans came too, sometimes, to trade with the piglins in the bastion using a shiny metal that made something in the back of his brain itch with _touch take touch want give._ He knew it was the same yellow metal in the walls and the floor, and he occasionally found little loose bits of it that he kept in an old leather pouch, but they had _so much._ They also wore a white metal Runt didn't recognize, worn and dented, and they were so twitchy. He had been twitchy too, at the beginning, and twitchiness nearly got him killed. He wasn't twitchy anymore.

Runt vaguely remembered humans from some hazy _before._ He remembered not being hot, he remembered buildings, he remembered people being angry. He remembered purple swirls and skinned knees and an empty black frame. He didn't like remembering that all that much.

The point being, Runt had a fairly clear idea of humans. He knew what they were like and how they spoke, though he had forgotten nearly all of the meanings of the words they used. They were twitchy and greedy and cruel, and when they caught a glimpse of him they shouted and tried to kill him.

Which is why, when he saw a human wearing purple swirls, he was immediately on high alert.

The human wore a shiny dark grey metal that Runt had never seen before, and it swirled and shined purple, like the black frame he could only barely remember, but lighter. The shine was less trapped, less squished together. And the human also wore a weird grey cloak, made of something like strips of fabric that rustled quietly when they walked. They were also (and this was really what caught his attention) completely calm.

Runt was curious. He adjusted his grip on his sword - he had found it left outside the bastion, something no one else wanted, but for him it was invaluable - and followed.

This human was very capable, Runt noted, watching them slice down a magma cube like nothing, using a sword made of the same shining metal. They also shot two ghasts with arrows that burst into flame after leaving their bow, which was much longer and held differently than the crossbows he was used to. Runt had _never_ killed a ghast; they were too big and too high up to hit. The human seemed to be targeting them on purpose, though, as they took the time to search for the ghasts' dropped tears and muttered happily to themself when they found one.

They wandered for a while, then, looking for... something. Probably more ghasts.

And then Runt slipped up. He moved too quickly or too slowly or in the wrong place, he wasn't sure, but the human's hand dropped to their sword hilt and they called out a wary greeting. They knew he was there.

Runt knew he didn't have a choice. It was him or the human, it was always him or the enemy, he didn't have a choice in this. So he leapt out of cover and charged.

He surprised the human, certainly, and he snarled at them as their swords locked, hoping to scare them off.

Instead, the human's cloak _moved,_ unfurling into two massive limbs that blasted air against him when they moved.

Runt almost dropped his sword as he backed away, ears pressed flat against his skull, scared out of his mind. What _were_ those??

The fear turned to confusion when the human backed off as well, sheathing their sword and holding up their hands. They said something, and their tone was... nice. Kind. Like they didn't want to hurt him.

Runt didn't attack. He was getting more and more confused by this human, and he really wanted to know what was going on.

Slowly, the human knelt and placed something shiny on the ground before backing away.

It was the yellow metal, Runt realized, and better than that, it smelled like _food._ He had seen a few of these, jealously hoarded in the bastions, but he had never been this close to one. He also hadn't eaten much in the past several days; the piglin hunting parties he usually relied on hadn't been having much luck.

So, against his better judgment, he inched toward the yellow metal food, keeping an eye on the human. They didn't move at all. He snatched up the food and ran back to where he had been earlier. They still didn't move, so he figured he was safe and started looking the food over. It was a weird shape, sort of the shape of lava flowing from the roof, but more pointed on one end than the other. Then Runt's stomach growled, he remembered he had to eat quickly to get away from the human, and he practically inhaled the whole thing.

The human finally moved, though it was just to toss another yellow metal food over to him. They slowly knelt down, and the weird cape-arm-things pulled back in as well so that they looked like a cloak again.

Runt took that one as well, eating slightly slower than he had the first time. He didn't really know what to make of this. No one had ever willingly given him food before.

Holding up another yellow metal food, the human asked him a question. He didn't answer, but they must have seen how much he wanted it, because they threw it to him anyway.

His time was up. He knew that. He had to leave, _now,_ before the human decided that they didn't like this game anymore and attacked him. So Runt put the third bit of food in his pouch and _ran._

He didn't run far, though. This human seemed different than the others that came here, and he still didn't know if it was a good different or a bad different. He needed to know which it was. His survival might depend on it. So he ran out of sight, then circled back around to follow them at a slightly larger distance than before.

The human took down another magma cube as they wandered, but Runt saw them pause occasionally to listen and scan the sky, so he knew they were searching for more ghasts. Why they wanted the tears, Runt had no idea, but they must have been important if the human was willing to spend so much time on them.

Finally, there was an awful shriek, and a ghast appeared, spitting fire. Runt realized almost too late that it was spitting fire at _him,_ and he only barely managed to dart out of the way of the explosion. It still threw him back, burning against his skin, and he slammed into the netherrack with a squeak of pain. Everything _hurt._ He dragged himself upright, using the netherrack to balance himself, and bared his teeth at the ghast, since he'd dropped his sword at some point. It wouldn't be enough, he knew it wouldn't, but he refused to go down without a fight.

The ghast screamed again.

And then, suddenly, the human was standing in front of him, weird limbs spread wide, holding up a big flat piece of tree stem as protection. Runt squeezed his eyes shut, knowing that it would still explode - but he heard the impact, heard the explosion, and nothing happened. He opened his eyes.

The human's protection had held, but they almost immediately dropped it to shoot the ghast with their weird crossbow. The ghast went down immediately.

With a glance down at the lava and a sigh of disappointment, the human turned to Runt.

He snarled at them, trying to make them go away. He didn't understand any of this.

The human murmured something in their language, pulling in their cloak limbs again and kneeling down.

Against his better judgment, Runt started to relax ever so slightly. Maybe the human didn't actually want to hurt him. Why would they feed him and protect him just to turn around and kill him?

Another ghast cried off in the distance, and Runt tensed up again.

The human glanced back over their shoulder, then turned back and said something in that same soft tone. When he didn't respond, they picked up their protection again, holding it between him and the ghast, and beckoned to him.

Slowly, Runt edged toward safety. When the human moved to keep the protection between him and danger, he kept going, and the human followed. They kept to his pace, keeping an eye on the ghast, still as calm as ever.

Runt got around an outcropping and slumped to the ground, deciding he was hurting too much to keep his guard up. It wasn't the worst he'd ever hurt - far from it - but he was _sore,_ and breathing stung.

The human put their protection away and knelt down, murmuring quietly. They took out a clear container full of a red liquid and set it down on the ground in front of him, like they had with the food.

Runt eyed it warily, curling up tighter.

They repeated a word - "Drink." Runt didn't know what it meant, but they mimed drinking something, so he assumed they wanted him to drink the contents of the container.

At this point, Runt was almost convinced that the human didn't want to hurt him. Almost. So he picked up the container, pulled out the stopper, and took a sniff. The smell made him sneeze.

The human chuckled and said something else. "Sorry." That was a word that Runt recognized! He hadn't heard it for a while, but he knew it meant the human hadn't meant to make him sneeze. They'd used it before, too, after he first attacked them.

That was the push he needed to trust them. Runt took a drink.

Whatever the liquid was, it was _weird._ It felt tingly and almost-burning, and his skin itched for a moment in all the places that hurt, and then it faded. And when it did, he didn't hurt anymore.

Runt took a deep breath and moved around a little, shocked when neither of those things hurt at all.

The human smiled and said something else, and they sounded amused.

Runt took another sip, and when this sip didn't burn like the last one, he figured he had gotten all of the good effects out of it. So he handed it back to the human, trying to repeat the word they had used. "'Rin'."

The human froze.

They had been much closer to the second explosion than he had, surely they were hurt too. "'Rin'," Runt repeated, copying their drinking motion.

Slowly, the human took the container. "Drink?"

Runt nodded.

They blinked at him, then drank the rest of the liquid.

He nodded firmly. Good. Now they were even. They helped him, he helped them, he could leave safely. He stood and hurried off before he decided to do something dumb, like stay close to the human, but he did take a glance back at them. They were staring at him, still holding the container. They hadn't moved. He ducked out of sight as quickly as he could.

The human turned around at that point, apparently deciding that they had enough supplies. Runt followed them at a safe distance. Why, he wasn't entirely sure, but something about them was just _interesting._ A good kind of different. He wanted to know more.

They led him back to a low grey building, made of a netherrack-like material Runt didn't recognize. The human went inside, leaving the door open.

Runt hesitated for a minute or so before his curiosity got the better of him and he went to go peek inside.

The human was sitting on the floor next to swirling purple in a black frame. They were waiting for him, Runt realized, his grip tightening on the doorframe. He hadn't seen swirling purple for a very long time, and now this strange human was waiting for him next to it. He didn't know what that meant, but it scared him.

The human smiled and leaned forward, setting Runt's sword down on the ground as far away from them as they could without getting up.

Runt gasped and darted forward to grab it. He couldn't help it; that sword was the reason he had survived as long as he had. Without it, he would be dead, and he had been certain he'd lost it when the ghast attacked. He took a few practice swings, smiling as he felt the weight of it, listening to the whistle as it cut through the air.

The human said something, and there was a soft kind of pain in their voice. Runt had never heard anything like it. He had no idea what they were saying, though, so he just kind of looked at them.

After a moment, the human stood and held out their hand, smiling gently.

Oh. Runt suddenly realized what they wanted. Memories of skinned knees and an empty frame and days, weeks, a lifetime of hunger and pain flashed through his head. But... the longer the human stayed there, hand outstretched, patient and calm and letting _him_ make the choice, the more he remembered about this human in particular. They had given him food. They had protected him instead of hurting him. They had waited, had let him set the pace again and again and again, not trying to stop him when he ran away or rush him when he needed to think something over.

Runt didn't have a lot of trust left. But with a deep breath and more courage than he'd had to use before in his whole life, he decided to give it to this human, and carefully put his hand in theirs.

The human's smile widened, and they led him into the frame.

As the purple swirls obscured his vision, Runt's grip on the human's hand tightened. He was scared, he still didn't know what was going on, but he knew one thing.

They would protect him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise, Techno's backstory is sadder than you thought :)
> 
> Don't worry, though, Dadza has now adopted the small child and will give him lots of love


	3. Phil's House

Runt blinked the purple out of his eyes, and immediately had to squeeze them shut and cover them with a hand. It was so _bright,_ and it was _cold._

"Sorry, mate," the human said, and he felt them put something soft on his head.

Instinctively, he went to push it off, but he paused when he realized that things were less bright now, and cautiously opened his eyes.

There was so much to process all at once that he almost closed them again, but instead he just tightened his grip on the human's hand. There was _so much._

The roof was so _high_ here, wherever here was, and it was a color that reminded him of the warped forests, but brighter. The floor was darker than the warped forests, and fluffier, like fur. He couldn't see any walls, but they were in a forest full of browns and the floor color. There was no red or orange in sight. Last, Runt lifted a hand to his head, and he found a large, drooping helmet made of fabric, striped white and the color of the floor.

The human squeezed his hand gently and said something in an amused tone. They sounded like that a lot, Runt noted absently.

Runt hesitated, trying to determine how far the human would let him push. Then, slowly, he knelt down and ran a hand wonderingly over the fur of the floor.

The human knelt next to him, pulling up a few strands. They held them out to him. "This is grass."

Cautiously, Runt took one of the fur pieces.

The human ran their hand over the fur just like he had. "Grass."

Oh! This was an its-word! "'Rass," Runt tried, digging his fingers into the strands.

With a big smile, the human said something that sounded nice. It wasn't a tone Runt had ever heard before, but he liked it. Did him learning words for things make the human happy?

He frowned, then pointed to the human.

The human tilted their head to one side.

Runt huffed, pointing again.

Their eyes widened and they pointed to themself, and their surprise melted into a grin. "I'm Phil."

"Fih," Runt tried.

"Yeah! Phil!"

"Fih," he repeated, nodding. Good, he was glad the human had a their-word. They were nice enough to deserve one.

The human - Fih, he had a word for them now - pointed to him and asked a question.

Runt pointed to himself, assuming they were asking for his own his-word. "Runt."

Fih frowned. They - he? - shook their head slightly.

Oh, that's right, Runt's first his-word was in Piglin, not Human. "Hybrid," he said carefully, trying to get the sounds correct and not sound too excited about getting to use his other his-word.

Fih's frown deepened, and his cloak-arms rustled dangerously. "Hybrid?"

Runt shrank back a little, ears flattening.

Instantly, Fih's expression softened, and he said something in a calm and gentle tone.

He was upset, Runt realized, but not at him. That was a new feeling. Who or what was he upset with?

While Fih was feeling calm, though, Runt decided to take a chance. He pointed to the weird cloak-arms and grunted questioningly.

Fih grinned and rustled them, raising an eyebrow in question.

Runt nodded. Yes, that's what he was pointing to.

The cloak-arms unfolded, all the way out, and Runt could see now how big they were. Each of them was nearly as long as Fih's whole body was tall, and they faded from dark grey at the top to light grey at the bottom. "Wings," Fih said, flapping them gently.

"Win's," Runt repeated. Grass. Wings. Fih. His mouth wasn't used to the sounds the humans' language required, but Fih had been so nice to him, and he needed to repay that. If learning words was the way to do it, then so be it.

Fih chuckled, and one of the wings curved slightly toward him.

Runt paused. No. No, there's no way Fih was suggesting what he thought he was suggesting.

Fih gently ran a hand over the wing, then beckoned to him.

Slowly, cautiously, Runt took a step closer and held out his hand. Just before he touched it, he glanced at Fih, who smiled at him. That was a good sign, he was pretty sure. He took a deep breath and touched the wing as gently as he could.

It was _soft._ It definitely wasn't fabric - he wasn't sure _what_ it was made of - but it was smooth and soft and petting it felt very nice. Runt felt his ears lift as he grew less timid of touching it.

After a minute, Runt reluctantly took a step back, not wanting to test his luck. Fih stood up, folding his wings again, and held out a hand with a smile. This time, Runt took it without much hesitation.

Fih led him through the forest, teaching him words as he showed interest in things (and since everything was new, he showed interest in everything). The thing on his head was a hat. The new type of stems that made up this forest were called trees. Trees were covered in leaves.

Runt took things from the ground and stuffed them into his pouch, trying to hide it from Fih. Humans tended to get upset when people took things. A small grey lump (the same material that had hidden the purple swirls), some grass, a few leaves. There were so many of those that no one would miss them, and he wanted to experience as much of this place as he could.

Eventually, the forest fell away, and they came out into an open space. There was a building in the middle of it, made of trees and the grey netherrack and sheets of the clear material Fih's container had been made of. There were pens with different animals and other, smaller buildings around it. Fih sighed happily when he saw it.

Runt tugged gently on his hand and pointed to the building.

"My house," Fih told him. "Phil's house. Yours, too, if you want."

That was a lot more words than Fih usually used to explain thing-words, but Runt understood the gist. "House?"

"Yeah!" Fih looked happy, and Runt felt weirdly proud of himself. _He_ did that. He'd never done that before.

Fih led him past the smaller buildings and the animals, and a big square of ground that was broken up in neat rows. Runt had never seen ground like that before and wondered why it looked like that; Fih was both very practical and very not-practical, so really, it could be for anything.

Runt hesitated at the doorway. He had never been in a building like this before - or maybe he had, he almost remembered being in one, but he also almost remembered not liking it.

Fih paused, hand on the doorknob. He asked Runt a quiet, gentle question.

This was Fih. Fih was okay. He would let Runt leave if he wanted to, he was almost certain. Fih hadn't stopped him from running away so far. So Runt took a deep breath and nodded.

Fih smiled and squeezed his hand gently, then opened the door and led him inside.

It was utterly unlike anything Runt was familiar with, but he was getting used to that at this point. There were small metal cages full of fire that lit up the space, and there was something big and flat and made of tree stems, and some smaller, shorter flat things of the same material, and a large, soft-looking fabric thing against one wall. He saw a passageway leading off into different sections of the house. Something colorful and soft lay across the floor, and Runt recognized most of the colors: red, purple, yellow. The space looked... Runt didn't have a word for it. Nice to be in? If he could have imagined this house before he saw it, it was the sort of place he would have imagined Fih living in.

Fih let go of his hand and gestured to the room, then walked over to an alcove Runt hadn't noticed. There was a hollow box made of the grey netherrack and a chest, something he had only ever seen in bastions. Fih rummaged in the chest for a moment, took out some brown things and a chunk of coal and put all of them into the grey box, then started lighting the coal.

While he did that, Runt wandered cautiously into the room. He knelt down and ran a careful hand over the colors on the soft floor thing - it was fabric, he was pretty sure - before going over to the fabric thing against the wall. It was big, probably big enough for Fih to lay down on, and when he pressed carefully down on it, it was springy and soft.

"That's the sofa." Fih's voice came suddenly from right behind him.

Runt flinched, turning and raising his sword on instinct before slowly lowering it as he registered who it was. He didn't look Fih in the eye, a surge of something unpleasant twinging in his chest. "Sorry."

Fih knelt down next to him, putting a hand gently on his shoulder. " _I'm_ sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."

He'd used those same words when they first met, the first time Runt had drawn a sword on him, though their meaning was still fuzzy. He hadn't been mad then, and he didn't seem mad now. Runt nodded slowly.

Fih hummed thoughtfully, then stood and beckoned to him. He led Runt over to a nearby door, opening it to reveal an _arsenal._ Runt's eyes widened as they flicked over armor, crossbows, those weird upright crossbows Fih had hunted ghasts with, swords, axes, every weapon Runt had ever seen and some he hadn't.

With an ease that said he had done it many, many times before now, Fih unbuckled his armor and set it on a stand, then set his sword in a bracket on the wall. He pointed to Runt's sword, then to an empty bracket next to it, saying something calmly.

Runt's ears flicked back nervously. He almost shook his head, feeling the panicked urge to hang onto the sword, his only source of protection. But... Fih had put his sword down first. Fih may do some things that Runt didn't understand, but he wasn't stupid. The ease with which he navigated Runt's home proved that. If there was danger here, he wouldn't have put his weapon down. And Runt _really_ didn't want to accidentally hurt him. So, even though it scared him and he knew it was probably a bad idea, he slowly walked over to the bracket and gently set his sword in it.

Fih smiled and said something in that kind tone again, then walked back to the grey box. He left the armory door open.

_This_ was what really confused Runt about Fih. He had only just met him, they could barely understand each other, and Runt had attacked him on instinct _twice,_ and yet Fih didn't mind. He gave Runt food and magic healing liquid and answered his questions as best he could and left him alone with weapons, better weapons than he could ever hope to see in bastions. Fih wasn't stupid, but Runt had no clue how all of that was in any way a good idea.

He couldn't help it. He wandered over to Fih's sword, hanging right next to his, and gently ran a finger down the blade. It was hard and cold and smooth, much smoother than his, which was worn with time and use and neglect. Runt took care of it as much as he could, grinding down the edges when it got dull and cleaning it off when it got dirty, but Fih obviously had better tools for it. His weapons looked almost newly made.

The smell of food wafted in from the other room, and Runt followed it almost without thinking.

Fih was standing by the grey box with two of the brown things in his hands, wrapped in fabric, and he smiled at Runt when he walked in. He tilted his head toward the big flat tree stem piece.

Runt had no idea what was happening, but the brown things smelled like food, so he walked over to it without complaint.

Fih walked over as well and sat down on one of the smaller tree stem pieces, setting one brown thing in front of himself and one on the opposite side of the flat piece.

Huffing softly, Runt pointed to the smaller tree stem piece next to him.

"That's a chair," Fih told him, then pointed to the larger piece. "This is a table."

"'Air, 'abl," Runt tried, struggling a little. These words were complicated. Fih smiled anyway, though, so he supposed the effort was what made him happy.

Chair. Table. Sofa. Leaves. Trees. Wings. Fih. Grass. Drink. Sorry.

Fih leaned over and unwrapped the brown thing on the table, then sat back and gestured to it.

Runt glanced at how Fih was sitting, scrambling onto the chair and mimicking him as best he could. It was hard, since he was so much smaller, but he did it! He grinned in triumph and set Fih's hat off to one side.

Hiding a smile, Fih picked up the brown thing. "This is a potato."

Runt just stared at him. There was _no way_ that's what this thing was called. _All_ of those sounds were hard! He couldn't copy that!

His expression must have been funny, because Fih laughed, then took a bite of the potato thing.

Like he had since he first started following Fih, Runt copied him. He wanted to dislike the potato, really he did, just because of the name, but instead his ears perked up and his eyes widened as he tasted the best thing he had ever eaten in his entire life.

Fih laughed again as Runt tore apart the potato, devouring it in less than a minute. He went and took a second one out of the grey box, handing it to Runt as he continued to eat his own potato. "There you go, mate."

Mate, Runt mused. Fih hadn't liked Hybrid, maybe he was trying to come up with a his-word for him? He had referred to Runt as Mate a lot. When he finished his potato, he tapped the table to get Fih's attention, then pointed to himself. "Mae?"

"Mate?"

"Mae."

Fih frowned thoughtfully. "Um... Mate, mate's a weird one."

"Weir'!" Runt echoed excitedly, he knew that one! "Hybrid weir'."

That was evidently the wrong thing to say, because Fih's wings rustled again and his expression darkened. "No."

"... No?..." Runt shrank back. He _liked_ Hybrid, it sounded much cooler than Runt, why did Fih hate it so much?

Fih took a deep breath, obviously trying to calm down. "Hybrids aren't weird."

Runt didn't know how to respond to that. He was fairly sure 'aren't' was a negative word, but that didn't make sense to him. He was Hybrid. He was weird. He always had been.

"Hybrid," Fih said gently, pointing to Runt. Then he pointed to himself. "Hybrid."

"Hybrid?" Runt echoed, really confused now. Hybrid was Runt's word, wasn't it? Even if he and Fih could talk to each other perfectly, he didn't know if he would be able to ask the right question so that he would understand.

Fih tapped his fingers against the table, thinking. Then he hurried over to a chest in the corner and brought out... something. Runt didn't know what it was. It was leather, and filled with flat, stiff bits of fabric all tied together on one end. Fih also took out something like what his wings were made of and brought both items back to the table. He opened the leather thing and began drawing.

Runt found himself standing up on the chair to get a better look. He'd drawn before, on basalt pillars and netherrack whenever he could get a lump of coal, but this was much neater and easier to see.

Fih quickly and carefully sketched out three figures: one human, one piglin, and one in between them who looked like Runt.

"Runt!" he squeaked, pointing to himself and then the picture.

"Yes," Fih agreed with a small smile, then indicated the various figures. "That's you. Human, piglin, you. Hybrid."

"Hybrid," Runt agreed, nodding.

Then Fih drew three more figures. A wingless human, himself, and an odd animal that Runt didn't recognize, a small one with wings. He pointed to the three pictures. "Human, bird, me. Hybrid."

Oh. Runt suddenly understood, or he was pretty sure he did. Hybrid wasn't a his-word, it was a word that _meant_ something. Hybrid applied to Fih too. No wonder he'd gotten angry, it must have seemed like Runt was trying to steal it all for himself! And he'd called Fih weird! He sat back down, feeling his ears flatten. "Sorry."

"No, no, don't be sorry," Fih said gently.

This was a _problem,_ though, because now Fih didn't have a his-word for him. Those were _important._ Hybrid wasn't a his-word and Runt was in Piglin, what was Fih going to call him?

Fih frowned. "What's wrong?"

This was going to be hard to say. Runt pointed to Fih. "Fih." Then he pointed to himself. "Runt." Then he pointed to Fih again. "Fih no piglin."

"No," Fih agreed, an odd expression on his face. "No, I'm not."

Runt made a helpless little gesture.

"You don't have a name in a language I understand," Fih breathed, that weird expression still on his face. "You want a name."

Well, Runt didn't recognize any of those words, but he knew understanding when he heard it. He also knew that Fih usually repeated words when he was trying to teach him something. "Name?"

Fih pointed to himself. "My name is Phil. Your name is..." He hesitated, then tried to copy Runt's his-word.

Runt couldn't help it. The awful pronunciation made him giggle.

Fih said something in a gently teasing tone. He was grinning ear to ear.

"Runt," Runt said slowly, trying to help Fih hear it.

"Runt," Fih repeated. Badly.

He giggled again and shook his head. "Fih no piglin."

"No," Fih sighed, still smiling.

The attempt had worked, though; 'name' seemed to be the term for a his-word.

"Name Fih," Runt said, pointing to him. Then he pointed to himself and frowned. "Name..." He trailed off. He didn't _have_ one in Human.

Fih closed the leather thing and put it back in its chest, then turned to a small shelf next to the sofa and took out another leather thing, this one a different color. He sat on the sofa and patted the section next to him.

Runt hopped down off the chair and walked over to the sofa. It took him a minute to get onto it (it was _really_ soft, with a lot more give than he'd anticipated), and when he was up there, he couldn't help but bounce a little.

Fih smiled, but didn't comment. He just opened the leather thing and read a word off of it. "Raiden." He looked up at Runt, as though gauging his reaction.

Was he supposed to know the word? Runt blinked at him, confused.

Nodding, Fih turned one of the fabric sheets. "Corliss." He glanced up at Runt again.

Oh.

_Oh._

Runt felt some unfamiliar emotion twist in his stomach as he realized Fih was _helping him find a name._ Even better, Fih was letting him _choose_ a name, looking to see if Runt liked the ones he found. Tears pricked at his eyes and he blinked them roughly away as he shook his head.

Fih smiled.

More names were offered and discarded; Elsend, Iralias, Theseus, a dozen others. Fih never got frustrated, never pushed Runt to choose, even when he had to switch to a different leather thing.

Then, finally, something clicked.

"Technoblade," Fih read, and Runt's ears pricked up.

He wasn't sure what it was about that name that he liked, but something about it caught his attention. It sounded _good,_ though he didn't know if it meant anything, and he liked the rhythm of it as Fih said it. Runt nodded decisively.

"You like Technoblade?" Fih asked, and Runt nodded again, smiling. Fih smiled back. "Technoblade it is, then."

Technoblade smiled at Fih, who had protected him, fed him, helped him, and made a silent promise with a child's sincerity and determination, the first promise he remembered making.

He was going to get as strong and brave as Fih. He was going to learn everything he could so he could help Fih like Fih had helped him.

Fih was going to be happy forever. Technoblade would make sure of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some more baby Techno and Dadza :)
> 
> Happy New Year, everyone!!! May 2021 be better than 2020


	4. Plans For Mischief

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure Dream's irl parents are lovely people but I needed antagonists, I'm sorry :(

"... And in the year - Clay! Are you paying attention?"

Clay was not, in fact, paying attention. He was trying to determine exactly how many seconds were left in this lesson (and struggling a great deal, the numbers were too big for him). He knew, however, that saying so would get him in trouble, so he just straightened his posture and nodded. "Yes ma'am."

His tutor - Ms Goodwyn - sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "Repeat back what I just said."

"You were talking about a war a hundred years ago," Clay said slowly, trying to remember. He occasionally picked up snippets when he zoned out that could convince her he'd been listening, but he couldn't remember anything this time. "Um..."

"Clay." Ms Goodwyn's tone was gentle, but it was clear she was running out of patience. "You can't keep doing this. Your parents hired me to give you an education, and I can't do that if your head is constantly in the clouds."

"I'm sorry," Clay offered weakly. He couldn't _help_ it, his brain just worked so much faster than his mouth and his quill, so he often started thinking in spirals and leaps instead of step by step like other people seemed to do. Unfortunately, that made it very, very difficult to pay attention to his tutors sometimes, especially if the lessons were boring.

Ms Goodwyn nodded. "I know you are. Just... try to focus, alright?"

Clay sighed, picking up his quill again. "Alright."

That was the good thing about Ms Goodwyn, and why he liked her most out of all the tutors he'd had: she cared. She understood that he was young and that concentrating was hard for him sometimes, and she didn't punish him for not being able to focus. In return, he understood that it was frustrating for her to teach the same things multiple times, and he tried his hardest to pay attention. Neither of them had room to truly accommodate each other, but they tried. That was more than most did.

The lesson dragged on, and Clay did manage to focus on most of it, though he had to doodle a lot in the margins of his papers, which he knew his parents wouldn't like.

Finally, Ms Goodwyn set down her book and smiled. "That's all for today. It'll be time for dinner soon, why don't you head to the dining room?"

Clay nodded and started piling his notes into as neat a stack as he could. "Are my parents home yet?"

"I'm not sure," Ms Goodwyn admitted. "I'll ask after them."

"Okay. Thank you." Clay set his quill on top of the papers and hurried off to the dining room.

His parents' house wasn't a mansion, not quite, but it was designed to be impressive. The dining room was big enough to fit at least fifteen people, but as Clay pushed open the heavy door, he was met with a long table with two china place settings. One for him, one for Ms Goodwyn.

His heart sank.

Clay's father was a merchant, a good one, which meant he often traveled. His mother often accompanied him, or went to visit friends in other cities for days at a time, leaving Clay in the care of his tutor and their small retinue of servants. They had been gone for a few days this time, and they had said they would be back today, before dinner.

Obviously that hadn't happened.

Clay allowed himself a little bit of hope as he sat carefully in his seat and stared, hands folded in his lap, at the cold china. Maybe they were just delayed by a few hours.

Ms Goodwyn walked into the room, and Clay's hope shattered at the look on her face. "Your parents sent word that they were delayed, they'll be back tomorrow."

"Oh." Clay traced the patterns on the plate in front of him with his gaze. Cold china, cold house, cold chest. Cold was better than angry. Anger got him in trouble.

Dinner was nearly silent. Clay ate quickly, probably forgetting a few of the table manners that had been mercilessly drilled into him, but he couldn't bring himself to care at the moment. Ms Goodwyn seemed to understand that he was upset and didn't try to talk to him.

When Clay finished eating, he set his silverware down and folded his hands in his lap again. "May I be excused?"

"You may."

He left the table slower than he wanted to (do not run in the house, do not run in the house), walking out the back door into the gardens.

The gardens were beautiful, full of trees and little ponds and colorful flowers, but Clay mostly loved them because of the freedom they afforded him. Out here, there were no rules, no walls, no expectations.

Out here, Clay transformed.

In the gardens, he could be anyone he wanted to be; a hunter, a knight, a cleric, _anyone._ He could be loud, and brave, and kind, and have as many friends as he wanted, and none of them ever minded when he talked until his throat was sore or got distracted. He acted out stories that he'd read, twisting the endings and the beginnings and the middles at a whim.

And, as someone who had read a lot of stories, Clay knew that most heroes had a second name, or some sort of title, one that meant something to them. 'Clay' had never really meant anything, it was just his name. So in the gardens, he left it behind, taking on a name that made perfect sense in a child's mind.

Dream.

Dream was the person Clay wished he could be all the time, someone who never had to wonder if he was loved, who didn't have to follow his parents' rules or listen to tutors or do _anything_ he didn't want to do. He was the hero, and tonight was no exception.

Tonight, Dream was following the tracks of a pillager group that was threatening a nearby town.

"They went this way," he told his small group of hunters in a whisper.

_How can you tell?_ one of them asked, awed.

Another snorted. _You've never hunted with Dream before, have you? He's the best there is._

"Shh," Dream hissed, creeping forward, following the tracks. "They'll hear us if you keep talking."

_Are they close?_

"Yes."

Suddenly, there was a rustle in the underbrush, and the pillagers jumped out at them, shouting war cries, brandishing axes.

Dream drew his sword and charged.

It was a vicious battle, and several of Dream's hunters fell aside, wounded but not dead. Dream himself got a bad cut on his arm, but he kept fighting, cutting down the enemy. Finally, the pillagers broke and ran.

_Dream, should we follow?_ one of the hunters demanded.

"Yes," Dream decided quickly, "we need to finish them off before they can regroup."

The hunters nodded and they gave chase, ducking through underbrush and fanning out to corral the fleeing pillagers.

Then Dream slipped.

He tried to take a turn too quickly, stepped wrong on the edge of a brook, and fell in, and suddenly the pillagers were gone. The sword was gone. Dream was gone. It was just Clay in a shallow stream, holding a stick, realizing with a horrible lurch in his stomach that if his parents ever found out about this, he would be in _so much trouble._

By the time he made his way back to the house, it was getting dark, and he had mostly dried off. He wasn't dripping anymore, at least. With luck, he would be able to slip upstairs unnoticed to change.

Luck wasn't with him.

Evidently his parents' estimation had been off once again, because Clay eased the back door open, only to lock eyes with his father.

"Clay!" His father had a booming voice that felt like it filled up the whole room, no matter how big the space was. "There you are, boy!"

His mother hurried over to him, opening the door further. "Goodness, Goodwyn said you'd gone outside, and - oh, _heavens,_ your _clothes_ -"

"I slipped," Clay admitted, trying to keep his chin up and voice even because he was a gentleman and he was expected to act like it at all times, and gentlemen do not cower. "I'm sorry, mother."

"Sorry?" Her voice turned to a sneer. "Do you have any idea how expensive that outfit is? And you just go galavanting off outside without a care in the world, getting covered in muck, ruining your clothes, and you come back and tell me you're _sorry?_ "

Clay put his hands behind his back to hide how tightly he was balling his hands into fists. "It was an accident. I was next to a brook and the bank was less stable than I thought."

"Void and fire, boy!" his father shouted, ignoring his mother's hissed _language, dear._ "We feed you, clothe you, house you, get you the best tutors in the region, and this is how you repay us? With lies and excuses?"

"I... I don't know what you want me to say," Clay admitted. His knuckles were turning white. "I told you what happened and apologized -"

There was a loud smack.

Clay kept his chin up and took deep, even breaths. Do not cry. Do not cry. Ignore how badly your cheek is stinging. Breathe. Do not cry.

"You will _not_ speak back to your father that way!" his mother hissed. "To your room, _now,_ and change out of those filthy clothes."

"Yes, mother." Clay went as quickly as he dared (do _not_ run, _do not run_ ) upstairs and into his bedroom.

He felt weirdly numb as he got changed (and he noted absently that there was barely any mud on his clothes at all, it was mostly water and sand). That had never happened before. They had threatened, they had punished, they had taken things away, but neither of them had actually _hit_ him before.

There was a soft knock on his door. With a spike of anxiety and hope, Clay hurried over to open it.

Ms Goodwyn stood on the other side, her mouth a thin, tight line. "Clay. May I come in?"

Clay nodded and held the door open for her.

As soon as she was inside, Ms Goodwyn closed the door behind her, then sighed, gently turning Clay's face to the side so she could look at his cheek. "Does it hurt?"

"Not really."

"Well that's good, at least. If it hurts later, put ice on it." She let go of him, but hovered anxiously, as though she had thoughts to share but no words to share them with.

Clay knew that feeling. He hadn't realized she felt it sometimes, too. "Is something wrong?"

Ms Goodwyn looked at him with an unreadable expression. "I'm being let go."

It felt like the floor dropped out from under him. "You're _what?_ "

"Evidently I'm not being strict enough, and it's setting a bad precedent for you," she scoffed. "I've been told to leave first thing tomorrow morning."

"But... But you _can't_ go!" Clay blinked away tears for the second time that evening. Ms Goodwyn had only been here a few months, but it sometimes felt like she was his only ally in this house; he didn't know what would happen if she left.

Ms Goodwyn smiled at him, but it was a very sad smile. "Unfortunately, I don't have a choice. So before I leave, may I have your permission to speak my mind, just once?"

Clay nodded.

"There is no reason," said Ms Goodwyn quietly, bending down to look Clay in the eyes, "for a parent to slap their child in anger. None. Period. That is not, and will never be, acceptable. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"... I think so."

"They're leaving again in three days," Ms Goodwyn told him, straightening and turning to leave. "If you have any plans for mischief, plan them for then. You're a smart boy, Clay, and you have a good heart. Don't let them take that from you."

Clay nodded, though he didn't quite understand. "I won't. Goodbye, then, and... and thank you for everything."

She glanced back at him and smiled. "Goodbye." And then she was gone, closing the door quietly behind her.

Clay didn't get much sleep that night.

His parents greeted him in the morning like nothing had happened, which is to say they gave him only cursory greetings at breakfast, told him to sit up straighter, and ignored him for the rest of the day. They didn't even mention that Ms Goodwyn was gone.

He spent that day curled up on his favorite chair in the library, pretending to read, while he thought about what Ms Goodwyn had told him.

Plans for mischief, she'd said.

There was no room for mischief in this house. There never had been. Any deviation from the rules was met with punishment and a lecture, and his tutor knew that. She also knew that Clay had a hard time with that, that he wanted to laugh and tease and play tricks, but never felt safe to. Ms Goodwyn was very strict about word choice, she'd chosen 'mischief' purposefully.

She had also chosen 'not acceptable' purposefully. Clay was used to those words being applied to _him,_ to his actions, never his parents. They were always the example.

What did it mean that _they_ had done something unacceptable?

That night, when his parents ignored him and talked about him like he wasn't even there, the doubts that had been building in his mind coalesced into a decision.

He wasn't going to stay in this house.

The next day was spent quietly preparing. Clay had been on two of his parents' many trips, and he had insisted on helping the servants pack his bags. He used what he remembered to guide his supply-gathering.

Food, as much as he could get; a few books; clothes, including a cloak; a small knife; and his secret stash of valuables. He had started collecting metals and precious stones a few years ago, a nugget here, a small gem there, ingots when he could get them, so he had a fairly sizable stash of iron and gold and emeralds, plus a diamond. Those were all the supplies he could fit in his inventory, so he decided to buy anything else he needed when he was far enough away.

The third day after he'd fallen in the brook, Clay's parents called him down to the parlor.

"Clay," his mother said in her best, warmest, we-have-guests-behave tone of voice, "this is Mr Northrop, your new tutor."

"It's nice to meet you," Clay said automatically, even though it wasn't true.

Mr Northrop was a tall, stern man, and he stared Clay down for a few moments before sniffing and turning back to his parents. "Polite enough. I can work with that."

"We'll be leaving him with you, then. We have people expecting us for dinner tonight," Clay's father explained.

They exchanged a few more pleasantries, and then his parents hurried out the door.

They didn't say goodbye to Clay.

"Let's go, boy," Mr Northrop sneered, and Clay followed him upstairs, already dreading what was coming.

Sure enough, Mr Northrop was one of those tutors who didn't recognize that Clay was a _person,_ let alone a boy who couldn't help it when he lost focus sometimes. By the end of the day, Clay's knuckles were sore from being hit with a pointer stick and his ears were ringing slightly from the shouting.

If he hadn't been certain before, he was certain now.

He went to bed, the perfect picture of an obedient child, but didn't get changed into his pajamas. Instead, he looked over his inventory one last time, got into a fresh outfit, and curled up under the covers. Waiting.

It took a long time for the house to be silent. He heard Mr Northrop stalking around the upper floor for a while, and a servant or two hurrying around downstairs, but eventually the sounds faded away and the lanterns dimmed, leaving the house quiet and dark.

That's when he moved.

As quietly as he could, Clay put on the comfiest, sturdiest boots he owned, put on his cloak, and crept out of his bedroom.

He had never been out of his room at night before. The house was much more intimidating in the dark, with long shadows everywhere, but he ignored them and kept going. This was too important to be distracted by shadows, even if they did look like monsters.

Clay reached the back door and hesitated.

This was it. Once he stepped out of this door, there would be no coming back. His parents would probably disown him, if they didn't send someone to drag him home.

... Would people be looking for him?

Something white gleamed on a side table nearby, and Clay turned to look at it.

It was a mask. White and smooth with an adjustable strap, and when Clay cautiously picked it up, he saw enchantments carefully etched around the inside rim to allow the wearer to see through it. It could be a good way to hide, at least temporarily. After a moment, making sure there wasn't a curse of Binding on it, Clay put it on.

It felt _right._

Clay opened the back door and slipped out, closing the door softly behind him.

And Dream ran off into the night, feeling truly free for the first time in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we finally get to some of Dream's backstory! :D Next chapter will be meeting the Dream Team


	5. To Be Brave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who else is terrified for tomorrow??? Have some cute Dream Team interactions as a distraction

Living on his own took some adjustment. Dream was too afraid of being recognized to go into nearby villages, so he was almost entirely by himself as he traveled away from his hometown as quickly as possible. That also meant he had no place to restock his supplies.

He rationed his food carefully, but he had only grabbed enough to last about a week, so he started to forage where he could, too. Sweetberry bushes stretched his food by three days, and a small patch of wild carrots gave him another two days. He didn't trust his knowledge of plants further than that.

It was about five days into his trip when he encountered wild animals for the first time. It was a small herd of sheep, about five of them, grazing by a pond, not a care in the world.

Dream thought about his slowly dwindling rations and took out his knife.

The first one was the messiest. He had never killed anything before; at night, when the mobs would be out, he always climbed a tree or hid in a tiny cave to avoid them. The second one was a messy kill too, but slightly better, and the third was the easiest yet. He left two alive.

Dream had a moment of panic when he saw that he'd gotten blood on his shirt, but soon remembered that it didn't matter. His mother would have been furious, but her opinion didn't matter anymore. He could leave it or get rid of it as he saw fit. He ended up washing his shirt after gathering up all the mutton and wool, but there was a stain on it now. He was strangely proud of that.

All that time on the road also gave him plenty of time to think.

Clay had been someone entirely of his parents' creation, and Dream had been more of an amalgamation of stories than a real person. It was time for him to decide what sort of person _he_ wanted to be and what _he_ wanted, here at this fresh start.

"I want to help people," he told the empty sky one day. "I want friends, real ones, and I don't want them to ever wonder if I care about them. I don't want _anyone_ to wonder that."

"I want to be brave," he told a fish in a river the next day. "I don't want to run away when I could do something to help. I don't ever want to quit doing something just because it's hard."

"I want control," he whispered to the stars at night, trying to ignore the sounds of zombies below his chosen tree. "I want to choose where I go and who I am. No one gets make those decisions for me ever again."

"I want to be strong," he decided as he waited for one of his pieces of mutton to cook over a small, smokey fire. "I want to be strong enough to survive whatever I have to to get where I want to be. I want to be able to protect myself, so I don't have to be afraid of anything."

Brave and kind and strong and free. He could work with that.

A week in, he decided to risk stopping at a village. It was small enough that his parents wouldn't have ever stopped here, and he doubted they were looking for him.

He was wrong.

There, on a billboard at the edge of town, was a poster of him, with his name written clearly across the bottom. _Ten diamonds for the return of this kidnapped boy,_ it read. _Twenty diamonds if you are able to turn in his kidnapper as well._ The poster also had a picture of Mr Northrop.

Dream was able to piece together what must have happened easily enough. After he had run away, Mr Northrop had realized he was gone, probably stolen a good amount of money, and left as well, not wanting to admit Dream had snuck out from under his nose. Whether or not his parents actually believed he had been kidnapped, they were using him as an excuse to find their missing property; why else would the reward double for turning Northrop in?

Dream adjusted his mask, reassuring himself it was still there, made sure the hood of his cloak was up, and headed into town. He needed rope and bandages and a better knife, and more food if there was enough room in his inventory.

There weren't many people on the streets, and those that saw him shied away from him, probably creeped out by the blank mask he wore.

"Hello!"

Dream flinched and turned.

There was a boy standing there, maybe a little younger than him, wearing a white headband. He was grinning.

"... Hello," Dream said cautiously.

"I'm Sapnap, who are you?"

"... Dream."

Sapnap tilted his head to one side. "That's a weird name."

"No weirder than Sapnap," Dream shot back before he could think better of it. His eyes widened and he took a half step back; "I... I'm sorry, that was inappropriate -"

Sapnap laughed. It was unexpected enough that Dream froze for a moment, totally uncertain how he was supposed to behave. "I like you! Do you want to be friends?"

Yes. Yes, he wanted to be friends, so badly, he'd never had a real friend before - but he hesitated. "I can't. I have to move on soon."

"Move on?"

Dream nodded. "I can't stay here for too long. I'm headed that way." He pointed in the direction he had been traveling.

Sapnap hummed thoughtfully. "Well, that doesn't mean we can't be friends anyway."

"I guess not." Dream smiled despite himself. "I'm going to buy some things, do you want to come with me?"

Sapnap beamed and nodded, and that was that.

Dream's shopping went smoothly with Sapnap's help. He knew where to go to buy different items, and he chatted enough with the villagers that they didn't pay much attention to Dream's silence and attire. They knew the kid, but not as well as Dream had expected, certainly not well enough for him to have lived here for long. He was starting to get some suspicions.

"Is that everything?" Sapnap asked.

Dream nodded. He had even managed to buy a stone sword for a fairly low price. "Yes, thank you."

"Do you want to come meet my other friends?"

After a moment of hesitation, Dream nodded again. "Sure." It wasn't as though he had anything better to do.

Sapnap led him through the town, happily talking his ear off. His friends were named Bad and George, apparently, and they were both really smart and really nice, and they were older than Sapnap. Dream gathered that they were older than him, too.

Finally, they reached the woods, and Sapnap didn't stop.

"Sapnap?" Dream said uneasily.

The boy paused and turned back. "Yes?"

"Your friends... live in the woods?"

"Yeah," he said, eyes narrowing. "And so do I. Do you have a problem with that?"

Dream shook his head. "No. I've been in the woods for a while now too. I just wasn't expecting it."

Sapnap seemed satisfied with that answer and started walking again. This time, Dream followed.

They didn't walk for very long. Sapnap led Dream to the entrance of a cave in a cliff face, which was blocked off by a heavy blanket, and whistled a soft, distinctive call before moving the blanket and leading Dream inside.

It was a small cave. There were blankets on the floor to keep out as much of the chill as possible and a small lantern in the middle of them, but it was still a cave, damp and dark. Two boys, huddled around the lantern and talking quietly, looked up when Sapnap entered.

"Sapnap!" said the taller one, sounding relieved. His hair and skin were pitch black, he had small horns, and his eyes and mouth glowed softly white. A half-demon. "We were starting to worry!"

"Who are you?" the other boy said sharply, eyes locked on Dream, and the atmosphere in the room suddenly became stifling as the demon boy noticed him too.

Dream was, unfortunately, used to that. He put a warning hand on Sapnap's shoulder, straightened, and respectfully bowed his head. "My name is Dream, it's a pleasure to meet you. I assume the two of you are Bad and George?"

The half-demon nodded slowly. "I'm Bad, this is George."

"Sapnap speaks highly of you."

"You talk weird," George announced. He was one to talk, he had an accent - "Sap, why'd you bring him back with you?"

"Dream is my new friend!" Sapnap said cheerfully. He hurried forward to the small circle around the lantern and took a small armful of food out of his inventory. "Look at what I got with him helping!"

Dream's eyes widened. "Where'd you-?"

Sapnap grinned at him. "I talk a lot because it's distracting. And you being there with your weird mask was distracting too! I didn't even get close to being caught!"

"I... I could have given you some if you asked."

_That_ caught their attention.

"We don't need pity," George huffed, at the same time as Bad said "Oh, no, I'm sure you need it more than we do -" and Sapnap said "How much money do you _have?_ "

Dream blinked, a little overwhelmed by all the talking at once. _Answer them,_ his mother's voice hissed, _it's rude to not answer a question._ But she didn't control him anymore, so instead of answering questions, he cautiously joined the circle and handed Sapnap one of his pieces of cooked mutton. "We're friends now, right? This is what friends do, I think. Help each other."

Bad frowned. "You think?"

"I've never had friends before," Dream admitted softly, staring into the lantern, hands folded tightly in his lap. "So I wouldn't know."

"I'm your first friend?" Sapnap gasped, eyes wide.

Dream nodded.

Sapnap turned to the other two. "Guys, can we _please_ keep him? He's really nice and I'm his first friend!"

"He's not a dog, Sapnap!" Bad scolded him. "We can't _keep_ people. We can ask him nicely, but we can't force him."

"I need to move on soon." The words tasted like ashes in his mouth.

George frowned, leaning forward. "Where are you going?"

"That way," Dream told him, pointing. "Away."

"Away from what?"

Dream shrugged. "Everything."

Bad spoke up, his voice gentle. "Dream, are you traveling alone?"

"Yes."

"By choice?"

"Yes."

"Do you want to not be alone anymore?" Sapnap asked with a bright and brilliant grin.

Dream stared at him. "... What do you mean?"

"He means we need to move on too," George explained. "We've been here for a few weeks, and the longer we stay, the more danger we're in. He's asking if you want to come with us."

"You'd let me?" Dream asked, a fragile little bubble of hope forming in his chest.

Bad nodded. "We've all been by ourselves, and we'd rather try to survive with each other than alone."

Brave. Dream wanted to be brave. So he took a deep breath and nodded. "If you'll have me, I'll gladly join you."

"No need to be so formal, Dream," Bad chuckled, holding out a hand. "Welcome to the group."

The bubble felt a little more solid, a little less fragile, as Dream shook his hand. "Thank you. Sorry, I'll work on that."

"Welcome to the group!" Sapnap screeched, tackling Dream and giggling at his shocked yelp.

And there, on the floor of a cramped little cave with a boy on top of him and the laughter of his new friends echoing around him, Dream felt warmer than he'd ever felt before.

_His friends._ He could get used to that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Dream Team is now together!!! :D


	6. Sky Noises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canon cannot hurt us here, have some more Babyblade and Dadza

Techno waited anxiously by the door, waiting for Fih to finish gathering supplies. He had been staying with Fih for about a week at that point, and Fih had promised him that he could help with a big, important project today, though he hadn't been able to fully explain what they would be doing. Knowing it was important and Fih wanted his help was enough for him, though.

"Okay," Fih said finally, closing the chest he'd been looking through (Techno knew his proper name was Phil by this point, but he preferred Fih, and it seemed like Fih did too). "Ready to go, mate?"

Techno nodded eagerly. "Yes!"

Fih chuckled and led the way out the door.

They came to the big patch of broken-up dirt that Techno had noticed when he first came to the house. Fih gestured to it and said "This will be a potato field when we're done."

"Potato field?" Techno asked carefully. He has spent the past week working on his pronunciation and learning new words, and he was able to say most things now so long as he took them slowly. He still didn't know what a lot of them meant, of course, but he could mimic Fih much more easily now. (And he definitely hadn't practiced saying "potato" and "Technoblade" that first night until he could say them perfectly, to the point where he fell asleep at the table during lunch, definitely not.)

Fih nodded, smiling. "We're going to plant potatoes."

Plant. That was the new word he hadn't been able to explain. Techno looked up at him, waiting patiently.

With a light chuckle, Fih took out a potato and a knife and crouched down so Techno could see. "Alright, watch carefully."

Techno watched as Fih cut the potato up into sections, noting that each section had a little dent in the middle.

"These are called eyes," Fih told him, pointing to the dents.

"Eyes?" Techno asked, covering one of his own eyes.

Fih laughed. "It's the same word, but it's different. Each potato eye will grow into a potato plant, which makes more potatoes."

"One potato is more potatoes?"

"Eventually, yes!"

Techno had no idea how a potato was supposed to spontaneously become more potatoes, but he was pretty sure it had to do with this plant thing Fih kept mentioning. "Plant potato, more potatoes?"

Fih grinned. "Yes, very good!"

_Very good._ That was one of Techno's new favorite phrases, and he smiled proudly at Fih. It meant he'd done a good job and Fih was happy with him.

Fih put the knife away and handed him the potato chunks. "Hold these?"

Techno nodded very seriously. He liked the crunch of raw potatoes, but Fih usually discouraged that, and this was obviously more important than having a snack.

Working carefully, Fih scraped away some dirt, put one chunk of potato inside, eye facing up, and pulled the dirt back into place so that the little chunk was buried. He turned to Techno and smiled. "That's planting."

That didn't seem very special to Techno. How was that supposed to make more potatoes? He huffed in confusion and knelt down to poke it. _Do something._

"Hey, hey, leave it alone, Techno," Fih said gently, putting a hand between him and the potato chunk. "It can't grow if you mess with it too much."

"Grow?"

Fih sighed. "Right. Nether." He looked around for a minute, held up one finger in a way Techno had learned meant _wait here,_ then hurried off somewhere.

Techno sat for a moment, then leaned forward and tried to copy what Fih had done. Several inches away from the other one, he scraped out a shallow hole, then put a chunk in it, eye up, and buried it. It was messier than Fih's, but he was pretty sure it would do. He then sat there, staring intently at both chunks, waiting for something to happen.

"Techno - oh!" Fih reappeared, and he seemed to be some mix of startled and pleased as he knelt back down. "Well done, mate! That looks really good!"

Well, if Fih liked it, that meant he'd done a good job. Techno smiled at him, then went back to staring at the potatoes.

"It takes a long time," Fih told him, and he only mostly understood that sentence. Fih seemed to get that, though, because he paused for a moment before saying, "Not now. Not today."

"No?" Techno asked, glancing up at him again.

Fih sighed and held up a small handful of white powder. "This is bone meal. It's very special, and I don't use it very often. Usually, no, not today, but this is a special case to show you what I mean about growing."

"Bone meal," Techno said slowly, not leaning in to look for fear of inhaling some and sneezing. "Bone meal grow?"

"Yes." Fih took some of the powder and sprinkled it over the potato chunk he had planted.

Instantly, small green sparks of magic began to appear around the chunk, and a green tendril unwound from inside it, unfurling into leaves and then tiny groups of colorful leaves. The leaves spread and the tendril thickened as Fih added more powder, and Techno could only stare as the potato became a tiny tree-like thing.

"We call this a plant too," Fih told him, brushing one of the leaves. "Like with potato eyes, it's the same word with different meanings. Trees are plants, and so is grass."

Techno cautiously copied Fih, running a careful finger along the edge of a leaf. He hesitated, then pointed to one of the colorful leaf bunches and used one of the few full sentences he knew. "What is that?"

"That's a flower," Fih explained.

After a moment of examining the plant, Techno frowned. "Fih, bone meal grow, no potatoes."

Fih chuckled. "Yes potatoes. The potatoes are down, under the ground."

Techno craned his neck, trying to see under the leaves. "Down?"

"Watch." Fih put one hand on the ground next to the plant, grabbed the main stem with the other, and pulled.

Techno was expecting a few roots to come out with the plant. It might take Fih a few tries if it was particularly stubborn. But he leaned back in surprise when it came out of the ground with _a lot of potatoes_ hanging from the bottom of it.

Fih pulled one off and handed it to him, smiling. "See?"

Hesitantly, Techno took it. It felt normal, it looked normal, it smelled normal. He took a bite; it tasted less good than usual, and there was dirt on it, but it had the same crunch.

"They're bland," Fih hummed, planting another chunk of potato. "That's why I don't use bone meal very often. It makes food bland."

He wasn't sure what 'bland' meant, but judging by the slightly twisted-up look on Fih's face, Techno guessed it had to do with the taste. Regardless, he finished the potato (not wasting food was very important), understanding what Fih was trying to say much better now.

Fih took another potato off the plant and put the rest in his inventory, taking out his knife again. He handed them to Techno with a soft smile. "Want to help?"

Techno slowly took the knife and the potato, worried he was going to make a mistake, but Fih kept his hands gently on Techno's, guiding the cuts. Together, they managed to cut another potato into useable chunks. Then, Fih guided him through planting the pieces, making sure he knew what he was doing and got the spacing right. Once Techno had found a bit of a rhythm, Fih took a few potatoes and another knife and moved over to another row to begin planting.

Techno looked over the section of dirt with wide eyes, realizing how many potato plants there would be. How many potatoes would they get? A lot, he hoped.

He found his rhythm again quickly as he planted more potato eyes, and he found his mind going weirdly quiet. It was a calm, steady, repetitive task, and he started to enjoy it more and more the more he did it.

Fih began humming a soft song, one that fit with the rhythm of cutting and planting and moving to the next space. It was repetitive, so Techno soon felt comfortable enough with the tune to join in. Fih grinned at him, and he smiled back, and it was just them, humming and planting potatoes.

There was something satisfying about the work, about dirt and potato juice on his hands, about looking back down the row and seeing how much he had done.

He and Fih worked for several hours, and they almost got the whole section planted when Techno felt it.

There was a drop on top of his head, and he squeaked in surprise, glancing up to look for for the cause of it. Nothing but the dark clouds.

"You alright, mate?" Fih called from his row.

"Yes," Techno called back. It had just been a weird feeling.

Then it came again, this time on the back of his hand. Techno squeaked again, pulling his hand in against his chest. There was _still_ nothing that could have caused it.

"Techno?" Fih sounded really concerned now. He had set down his knife and was looking over at Techno, ready to come over and see what was happening.

"Fih," Techno replied worriedly, looking up at the sky with his ears flat. _Something_ was happening, and he didn't know what, but he knew Fih could fix it.

Fih looked up too, then frowned. "I thought we had more time... Let's head inside, alright?"

Techno didn't understand most of that, but he knew 'inside,' and he knew that quietly frustrated tone of voice. So he gathered up all of their potato planting supplies, putting them in his inventory for safekeeping (a _very_ useful trick that he'd made Fih teach him his third day here). He felt a few more drops as he moved around, and he saw a few landing on the ground as well.

"Fih, what is that?" Techno asked nervously as he ran over, grabbing Fih's hand.

Fih curved one wing up over his head. He was smiling. "It's starting to rain. Come on, let's head inside and we can watch, okay?"

Techno nodded, relaxing slightly. If Fih wasn't worried, he was okay. Fih led him inside and had him sit next to what he had learned was called a window, watching the drops hit the ground, while Fih put everything away.

Slowly, the amount and size of the drops increased, and Techno's ear twitched as he heard the noise it made increasing as well.

Fih walked up behind him, dragging a chair, sitting down as well. "That's rain."

"What is rain?"

"Rain is just water."

Techno turned to frown at him. "Water go down. Is not up, not in sky." The concept of water was fairly new to him, but he was sure of that much, at least.

Fih chuckled and pointed out the window. "Water goes down, yeah."

... Techno couldn't exactly argue with that. He hummed quietly and turned back to the rain.

It was fairly nice, he had to admit. Watching and listening as it came down was comforting, and he relaxed a little as it kept going.

Suddenly, the world lit up a stark white for a split second, and then there was a loud _BOOM!_

Techno screamed and darted underneath Fih's chair.

"Oh no, Tech, Techno it's okay, bud, you're okay," Fih murmured, resting a hand on Techno's shoulder.

Techno just balled his fists in Fih's pant leg and hid his face in the back of Fih's leg, shaking.

Fih started rubbing his thumb back and forth across Techno's shoulder. His voice was quiet and calm. "You're safe, Tech, it's okay, it was just thunder. It can't hurt you. It's alright, you're okay."

Maybe if that had been it he would have believed Fih and calmed down, but then there was another _BOOM_ and he let out a terrified whine.

Fih hesitated, then gently tugged his leg away. Before Techno could protest, he was scooped up and pulled into Fih's lap.

Techno blinked, trying to process the unexpected shift and new experience, then decided this would work just as well and buried his face in Fih's chest instead. Fih's arms were around him, stable but not restrictive, and he heard the gentle rustle of Fih's wings coming up to circle around him too.

"It's alright, Techno," Fih murmured, one of his hands moving to card through Techno's hair. "You're safe, I've got you."

Techno saw another flash from behind his eyelids and tensed, waiting, but Fih stayed relaxed.

"One..." he whispered. "Two... Three... Four..."

_BOOM._

Techno whined again.

"Four seconds away," Fih said quietly. "The flash is called lightning, and it's what causes the sound, so by counting the seconds you can tell how far away the lightning is. The sound is called thunder. It's scary, but it's just noise, it can't hurt you."

He didn't really understand most of what Fih was saying, and what little he did know was thrown out the window in the face of the terrifying sky noises, but Fih was calm and steady, running his fingers gently through Techno's hair over and over again, murmuring softly even though he knew Techno didn't know what he was saying.

Flash.

"One... Two... Three... Four... Five..."

_BOOM._

Techno flinched, but he didn't make any noise this time.

"It's leaving," Fih told him soothingly, still calm, still gentle. "It was four seconds last time and five seconds this time. It's going away. Count with me next time?"

Count. Techno knew that word, and he was starting to calm down a little (Fih had him it was okay Fih wouldn't be this calm if he was in danger), so when the next flash came, he shakily counted under his breath with Fih.

"One... Two... Three... Four... Five..."

_BOOM._

"Good, very good, you're doing great," Fih said warmly, still holding him, still running a hand through his hair.

Techno cautiously pulled back from Fih's chest a little, enough to look up at him. "Fih?"

"Hmm?"

"Loud."

"Yes," Fih agreed, "but not dangerous. We're inside, it's outside."

That was true, and something Techno hadn't considered before. With that new realization and the protective feeling of Fih's wings around him, he felt brave enough to sit up a little more and look out the window again.

Another flash came, but this time Techno saw what caused it.

A bolt of something white and brilliant arced through the sky, splitting like the top of a tree, lighting up the whole world. It was beautiful and powerful and Techno was absolutely terrified of it, but he couldn't look away from it. And then it disappeared as quickly as it had appeared, leaving Techno to blink away the afterimage.

"One..." they counted together, "Two... Three... Four... Five... Six..."

_Boom._

The noise wasn't as loud that time. Phil had been right, it was going away.

"Fih?" Techno said quietly, glancing up at him. "What is..." He made little flashing gestures, trying to describe the bright white shape without words.

"Lightning," Fih told him at the same volume. He hadn't stopped running his hand through Techno's hair. "And the sound is called thunder."

"Lightning, thunder," Techno whispered, staring back out the window.

They stayed like that for a long time, counting seconds, listening to the rain. All in all, not a bad way to spend Techno's first thunderstorm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is my favorite thing I've written for this series so far :)


	7. Like a Tea Kettle

Dream knew that he had been rather isolated growing up. He had known it based on his own loneliness, on the stories he read, on the things his tutors and parents said. His new friends quickly taught him that while he may know he had been isolated, he didn't have a clue what that meant.

Everything was different with people around. _Everything._ Sleeping, eating, down time, travel. The first time they ate together, just after he joined them, Dream just watched from a corner trying to process it. Long habit kept him silent as he tried to figure out the rules in this new setting. Except... there didn't seem to be any. They _laughed_ while they ate, and joked around, and talked, and discussed what would happen tomorrow. Bad was definitely in charge, as much as any of them could be, and he scolded the other two when they went too far or got too rough, but other than that, he let them be. He let them laugh and ramble and just _be,_ and Dream wanted that so badly his chest ached, but he held back. Not yet. He wasn't that much a part of the group yet.

Then they offered to let him stay with them for the night, unless he had somewhere else to be, and he quickly accepted. Finding his own place to sleep didn't seem at all appealing, since night was about to fall and mobs were about to venture out. The only problem with the arrangement was that Dream hardly slept at all; four of them in one little cave made a lot of noise, even when they were asleep, and Sapnap snored. Not loudly, granted, but the soft little snorts were more than enough to keep Dream awake when he was used to sleeping alone.

They moved on in the morning, and it was simultaneously a familiar rhythm and completely foreign. Dream had been traveling long enough to know what sorts of routes to take, and evidently had a knack for it, because after the third time he suggested a slight course correction, Bad just let him lead.

"You're really good at this," Sapnap noted as they skirted a dense section of underbrush that Dream had predicted would show up.

"Thank you." Dream was having the time of his life; he'd never gotten to lead anything before, not properly, not outside the gardens and his own imagination. Evidently all that running around outside had actually helped him.

Sapnap picked up a stick and started whacking it against trees as they passed them. "How long have you been by yourself?"

"Not that long, but I read a lot, and I spend a lot of time outside."

"Cool. Where'd you get your mask?"

Dream had a moment of panic, desperately trying to come up with a story and coming up blank, before remembering how Sapnap usually got food. "I stole it."

" _Cool!_ "

"Is there a reason you keep it on all the time?" George piped up from behind them.

"George," Bad scolded him, "if he doesn't want to talk about it he doesn't have to. We haven't known him that long."

The elation of being called _cool_ was abruptly replaced by a bolt of visceral terror at the thought of his new friends learning who he really was (you could buy a lot of food, a lot of supplies with ten diamonds), so he ignored George and kept walking.

Silence fell over their little group, heavy and cloying, until Bad softly asked Sapnap a question, which started a conversation up again. Dream kept his eyes forward, focused on the path, ignoring the gentle hum of static in his ears and the prickle down his spine of someone watching him. He knew who it was even without looking.

George didn't trust him. That was okay, he didn't trust them all the way yet either (It wasn't okay, it hurt, he wanted to trust them _so badly_ but he didn't know how or if he even should). He didn't talk much the rest of the day.

They made good time that day, and as they sat around a campfire just outside another small cave to eat dinner, Dream finally asked if they were going anywhere in particular.

"Yes and no. We're sort of like you," George (surprisingly) answered. "Just... headed away."

"We're looking for someone," Bad added. "Or I am, anyway. His name is Skeppy, have you seen him?"

Dream shook his head. "No, I'm sorry."

"That's okay. We'll find him eventually."

Despite the cheerful words, Dream noticed Bad's tail droop and the glow of his eyes dim; this Skeppy person must be really important to him. "Yes, you will. And I'll be glad to help if you want."

Bad blinked at him. "Really?"

"Really."

That was the end of it until the fire was out, they had retreated to the cave, and George and Sapnap were both asleep. Dream wasn't far from it himself (the noise was still distracting, but he was tired enough to not care) until he noticed Bad sit up and look over at him, his eyes made much brighter by the darkness. Dream sat up too, curious about why he was up so late.

Bad tilted his head toward the cave entrance, and when he left quietly Dream followed.

They sat down just outside the blanket they had hung up for protection. There were a few sounds of mobs, but none close enough to be a concern. For a moment, they just sat there, taking in the night.

Finally, Bad sighed and whispered, "Skeppy is my best friend. I haven't seen him in two years."

"That's a long time to not see your best friend," Dream murmured.

"You're telling me." Bad hugged his knees to his chest and wrapped his tail around them too. "The place I was born wasn't exactly... _accepting_ of what I am. Two years ago, I woke up to my house on fire. Skeppy was spending the night, we both got out, we got separated... and I haven't seen him since. He's out there, somewhere, looking for me. I know it."

Dream wasn't quite sure how to handle this. No one had ever trusted him with secrets before. He couldn't share all of his own secret, but maybe he could risk sharing a little? "I'm on my own because I ran away."

Bad nodded. "I thought so. May I ask why? You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

He took a moment to think. Did he want to? Yes, he realized as Bad waited patiently. He did. "My parents... aren't good people. They said they loved me, but I made a mistake and my mother slapped me. So I left."

"Good." Bad's voice was firm and cold as iron. It took Dream by surprise; so far, Bad had been nothing but kind and slightly nervous. "That's awful. I'm glad you got out."

Dream copied Bad's pose, hugging his knees to his chest. "Yeah. Me too."

That conversation changed nothing, practically speaking; when they woke up the next morning and kept moving, Bad's behavior toward Dream hadn't shifted, and Dream's behavior hadn't shifted either, as far as he knew. But at the same time, there was a new level of understanding between them. It was strange and unfamiliar, like a rope tied around his heart, but Dream was pretty sure he liked it.

George seemed to notice the change, though Dream had no idea how. He was less openly suspicious, more willing to talk and let things go if they made Dream uncomfortable. Dream returned the favor as best he could.

"Hey Dream," Sapnap said on the fourth day of travel, when they were all gathered around the campfire and about to head to bed. "Your mask is kind of creepy."

"Sorry," Dream said awkwardly; he hadn't even considered how the blank white mask must look to other people.

Sapnap shook his head. "It's really cool, don't get me wrong! It's just also kinda creepy."

"It might look better if there was, I don't know, a face or something on it," George suggested.

Bad hummed thoughtfully. "I don't know, masks with faces can be even creepier than blank ones. A pattern or something might be better."

Sapnap just tilted his head slightly to one side, considering Dream so intently that it made him slightly uncomfortable. Then he took a chunk of charcoal out of his inventory. "Can I try something?"

"Sure." There was no harm in letting him doodle, right? Charcoal would wash off.

It was a _weird_ experience, watching as Sapnap drew on something he couldn't see just above his skin. He felt strangely vulnerable. That was an uncomfortable thought, though, so he focused on Sapnap's face instead, since the boy had leaned in closer to better see what he was doing, and his tongue was sticking out of the corner of his mouth in concentration. Dream had never seen anyone do that before.

Sapnap leaned back, beaming. "Done!"

"What is that," George said more than asked, obviously not a fan of whatever Sapnap had done.

"It's... better," Bad offered cautiously. "Less creepy."

Dream suddenly wanted nothing more than to take the mask off to look, but he resisted. Instead, he tried for a teasing tone of voice. "What did he do to me?"

"I made you look _awesome,_ " Sapnap declared with finality.

"Somehow I doubt that, but I can't see it, so I can't really dispute it." Dream really hoped the light, happy feeling welling up in his chest wasn't evident in his voice.

Sapnap cackled and immediately began wrestling with George, trying to draw a mustache on his face. There was a lot of screaming from both of them, and Bad quickly joined in to try and act as mediator.

That light feeling bubbled over, and Dream laughed - a real, proper laugh, the kind that was more a wheeze than anything and made him double over a little - for the first time in a long while.

Everything froze.

Dream locked up as soon as he registered the noise, the amusement dying in his throat, but by then it was too late. George's expression was unreadable behind his glasses, which had fallen from his forehead onto his face during the scuffle, Bad looked surprised, and Sapnap had the expression of someone who was seeing a unicorn.

"I -" Dream could hardly talk, hardly breathe, that wasn't allowed, that wasn't allowed - "I-I'm sorry, I - I didn't mean to -"

"You sound like a tea kettle," George said quietly, and through his haze of panic, Dream picked up a hint of... amusement?

Sapnap gasped. "He _does!_ I didn't know people could laugh like that!"

"Me neither, but I thought it sounded cool." Bad's gaze was knowing, and for some reason that made Dream feel a little steadier.

"I... don't laugh like that a lot," Dream admitted softly. It wasn't proper, his parents had said.

"You should! I'm gonna make you laugh a _lot,_ 'cause you sound funny and cool," Sapnap declared with a child's determination.

Dream chuckled, and Sapnap shook his head.

"No, no, an actual laugh! I'm hilarious, it'll be easy."

He was so _confident._ Paired with the relief of realizing none of them minded, it was enough to get Dream laughing again. Quietly, just a little, but it made Sapnap light up and Bad smile.

Later, when the fire had burned down and everyone else was asleep, Dream took off his mask to look at what Sapnap had drawn. When he realized what it was, he had to stifle another laugh.

Two dots and a carefully drawn curve made a slightly wobbly smiley face right in the middle of the blank white mask. It was very _Sapnap,_ and the fact that he had been so careful while drawing it - and the fact that he'd immediately thought to draw something happy - made Dream smile. Carefully, so he wouldn't smudge the lines, he ghosted a fingertip along the edge of the smile, hardly believing that his friend had bothered to draw it for him.

These were good people, Dream decided, glancing over at the three sleeping boys. He may not know what friendship was like, but he was going to learn. He was going to be the best friend he could be.

They deserved it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonding time!!! :D


	8. Snap Judgements

Phil was cautious. Techno had learned this again and again during his time in the little house in the woods, which worked out well, since he was cautious too. They were cautious together, teaching each other what they needed to feel relaxed and why they worried about the things they did.

Which is why, when Techno learned that there was a village very close by, Phil assured him they weren't going to go into it for a while. He wanted to give Techno more time to get used to the Overworld, he said, and Techno was fine with that. He was busy absorbing knowledge as fast as he could, and once he figured out that you could learn to _read,_ he read every book Phil had, even the ones he didn't really understand. The question "What does this mean?" became very common.

Eventually, though, he had read all of the books, and Phil needed supplies, and it was finally time to make a trip to the village.

"Keep this on," Phil told him gently, putting a small cloak around Techno's shoulders and pulling the hood up. "The villagers are good people, for the most part, but they're not used to people like us."

"Hybrids," Techno clarified, adjusting the hood so it was more comfortable against his ears.

Phil nodded. "Hybrids. I don't want them making snap judgements about you because of the way you look."

"What does snap judgements mean?"

"Making a decision about something quickly, when you first see it," Phil explained.

Techno nodded thoughtfully. That made sense. "Did you make a snap judgement about me?"

Phil laughed, the startled kind that meant Techno had surprised him. "I guess I did! The kind the villagers would make would be very different, though, so it's best to keep the cloak on for now. Just... remember that you don't need to be ashamed of who you are, alright?"

"What does ashamed mean?"

That one took Phil a moment to put into words. "It means you're... upset about yourself. You don't like something about who you are or what you've done and want to hide it."

"Oh." Techno remembered the times he had met humans before Phil, when they had shouted at him and looked at him like Phil looked at food that had gone bad unexpectedly. He'd always hated those looks. If he had been older, if he had known good people back then, would he have been ashamed? "So the hidin' is just for now. And not because I'm bad."

Phil smiled at him. "Right. You're one of the kindest, most intelligent kids I've ever met, and don't let anyone tell you differently."

Techno nodded, and they walked out the front door.

The walk to the village was short, only a few minutes, but it felt much longer. Techno had never been in a village before, at least not that he remembered, and though he trusted Phil, he still felt more and more afraid the closer they came.

About halfway there, Phil offered his hand and a reassuring smile. Techno accepted both, feeling slightly braver, and held Phil's hand all the way there.

"This is a small village," Phil told him quietly as they emerged from the trees, and Techno felt his ears flatten as he saw the first buildings. "Most of the people who live here are farmers - which means they grow food - or craftsmen, which means they make things."

"Are we farmers?" Techno asked quietly. He knew Phil was just trying to distract him, but if playing along let him be less nervous, then he was happy to do it.

Phil shook his head. "No, because we do other things, and we use most of it to feed ourselves. We can't go neatly into one box."

"Like bein' hybrids?"

Phil let out another startled laugh. "That's one way to think about it, yes."

"Hey, Philza!"

Techno tensed at the unfamiliar voice, but Fih smiled and waved to a nearby human. "Hey, Jacob, how are you?"

'Jacob' laughed and walked over, clapping a hand onto Fih's shoulder (Techno almost reached for his sword, tucked away in his inventory just in case, to protect Fih before realizing that the human wasn't attacking him). "Good, good. What about you? You've never brought a kid before!"

Techno went absolutely still, staring at the ground. He could feel Jacob's eyes on him and he _hated_ it.

"This is Techno, I've been taking care of him recently," Fih said calmly. "He's fairly shy."

"Well, nice to meet you, Techno! I'm Jacob, I grow most of our potato crop around here."

Techno's ear flicked in unconscious interest at the mention of his favorite food, and he dared to glance up and mutter "Hello."

Fih squeezed his hand gently, a silent _well done._ "We've got some shopping to do, so I'll see you around."

Jacob walked off with a cheerful wave. "See you!"

"He's a pretty friendly guy," Fih hummed, gently leading Techno further into the village.

"... Philza?"

Fih nodded. "That's my full name. I prefer Phil, though. Do you have our list?"

Techno nodded, taking the small sheet of paper out of his inventory. Fih had told him that it was a very important job, holding the list, and he was going to do his best.

"What's the first thing?"

"Seeds," Techno read carefully (one thing he had learned from reading so much is that words sometimes looked one way and were said another, which seemed stupid to him, but he couldn't do anything about it, so he was just careful when reading out loud).

"That's this way." Fih led Techno to a little half-building with a fabric roof.

The woman standing behind it brightened when she saw Fih. "Hello, Phil, it's been a while! Who's this?"

"This is Techno," Fih told her with a smile. "He's helping run errands today."

"Oh!" The woman leaned onto the counter in front of her, smiling down at Techno. "Hello, Techno, my name is Leah, it's lovely to meet you!"

Techno tightened his grip on Fih's hand, but he managed a quiet "Hello nice to meet you."

"Would you like to tell her what we need or should I?" Fih asked quietly.

"... Seeds?" It came out as more of a question than anything, but Fih beamed at him, so he must have done a good job.

Leah nodded happily. "I can get those for you, no problem. Same quantity as usual?"

"Yes, and I believe we need carrots and beets as well," Fih told her, glancing down at Techno for confirmation.

Techno checked the list and nodded.

Leah bustled around her little half-building for a minute, then handed Fih a box, which he put in his inventory. Then he handed her a few emeralds, said goodbye, and led Techno away again.

"You're doing a great job, mate," Phil told him, giving his hand another gentle squeeze. "If you get overwhelmed or want to head home, just let me know, okay?"

"Okay." Techno honestly wasn't entirely certain what 'overwhelmed' meant, but he assumed Phil meant if he started getting really scared. And he wasn't feeling quite as scared anymore (each new person was as terrifying as the last, but the fear of the village itself was starting to go away), so it was fine.

They worked through the other items on the list in a very similar way; Phil was usually the one talking to the villagers, asking for the things they needed, introducing Techno. Occasionally (with people who knew what he usually asked for), he would ask if Techno wanted to ask for the supplies, and when Techno shook his head one of those times, he accepted that answer and did it himself. That was really what made Techno start to relax a little; this was still Fih, still that comfortable dynamic where he was allowed to choose things, just in a new setting. He could handle that. He even let go of Phil's hand after a while (he didn't _really_ want to, but Phil was so proud of him for being brave, he could push it this much).

This decision, of course, immediately came back to bite him when he saw the glint of something shiny and drifted over to it (it was an iron nugget that someone had dropped or abandoned, which Techno immediately scooped up), and when he looked back, he couldn't see Phil.

Panic exploded in his chest like a ghast's fireball, and he shrank back against the nearest building, looking for any sign of Fih. He couldn't quite breathe right - was this what Fih had meant by overwhelmed? Was this being overwhelmed? Because there were too many people looking at him and too much space around him he needed to hide he needed to get away -

Techno found himself curled in a ball, shaking slightly, in the space between two buildings. On some level, he knew that Fih couldn't find him here, so he should go back out. His instincts, however, honed from years of living alone, screamed at him to stay put, stay hidden.

"Are you okay?"

Techno flinched violently backward, glancing up to see who had spoken.

A boy with curly brown hair looked down at him, arms crossed, a worried expression on his face. "You don't look okay."

"... Can't see Fih," Techno whispered, feeling tears prick at the corners of his eyes. "Lots of people."

The boy nodded, the worry melting into something more like understanding. "Oh, okay, makes sense that you're upset, then. I'm Wilbur, by the way, who are you?"

"Techno."

"Nice to meet you, Techno!" Wilbur sat down to be on Techno's level, grinning. "I like singing, what do you like?"

"Potatoes," Techno said shyly.

"Eating them or planting them?"

Techno felt his ears start relaxing. "Both."

Wilbur talked to him for a few more minutes, asking question after question and offering his own answers before asking for Techno's. It was nice. It relaxed him in a very different way than Fih's methods did, but it was just as effective, and he found himself asking a few questions of his own.

Eventually, Wilbur grinned and held out a hand. "Ready to go look for Fih?"

Techno nodded and took his hand, and Wilbur helped him stand up before leading him out of their little hiding place.

" _Techno!!_ "

That was Fih's voice, but Techno's ears flattened again at the tone; Fih had _never_ sounded that scared before. He darted away from Wilbur, moving around buildings and people as quickly as he could, chasing the sound. "Fih!!"

Fih rounded a corner ahead of him, wings flared slightly, and when he saw Techno he sprinted over and pulled him into a tight hug, wrapping his wings around him. "Techno! What happened, where did you go?"

Techno hugged him back just as tight. "I didn't see you and got scared, so I hid."

"I'm so glad you're safe," Fih whispered into his hair. "Please don't do that again, alright? If you lose me, stay right where you are, I'll come back for you. I promise."

"Okay."

"Are you Fih?"

Fih pulled back from the hug just enough to see who had spoken (Techno recognized the voice, it was Wilbur, so he stayed right where he was). "Yes, though most people call me Phil."

"I'm Wilbur! Techno was really upset that he couldn't find you, so I wanted to make sure he was okay."

"Thank you." The fear in Fih's voice from earlier had given way to a deep, intense relief. "I appreciate it."

"Thank you," Techno echoed, his voice slightly muffled, since his face was buried in Fih's coat.

Fih ran a hand gently through his hair. "I think we should head home now, we can get the rest of these supplies later."

Techno nodded. Home sounded really good right about now, though Fih scooping him up and keeping his wings wrapped around him as they left the village was even better.

* * *

They returned to the village two days later, and this time Techno absolutely refused to let go of Fih. If Fih needed both hands for something, Techno held onto his coat instead until he had a free hand again.

As Fih talked to someone about rabbits, Techno heard a familiar voice. He glanced over to see Wilbur getting shoved only kind of gently to one side by some random villager, who was looking at him... the way humans in the Nether had looked at Techno. Like he shouldn't be there.

Techno looked a little closer at Wilbur. His clothes didn't look very warm, and his shoes (that had been one of their stops today, getting Techno new shoes that fit properly instead of the ones Fih had happened to have in a chest somewhere) were nearly falling apart. He was grinning, though, and didn't look at all upset by how the villager was treating him. For some reason, that made Techno upset _for_ him.

"Techno? Ready to keep going?"

He startled a little and glanced up at Fih. Wilbur had disappeared. "Yeah."

Their last stop was at a little building with lots of clothes inside. Techno tentatively reached out and ran a hand along a particularly soft-looking shirt, his ears perking up when it felt as soft as it looked.

"Go ahead and pick some things out, mate," Fih encouraged him.

Techno let go of Fih for the first time that day (it was a small area, surely he couldn't lose him in here) and started wandering around the building while Fih talked to the woman who apparently owned it.

He took time to consider his options, making sure things felt nice, but also wanting them to _look_ nice. He hadn't seen many pretty things in the Nether, and the only pretty thing he'd ever owned was his sword. Besides, if he was going to wear these a lot, he might as well enjoy looking at them.

After quietly asking Fih how many of each thing he should pick out, Techno ended up with five shirts and four pairs of pants that he liked. He also added a very soft yellow shirt (yellow like gold, yellow like the sun) and a black hat to the pile. Fih gave the woman emeralds, Techno put the clothes in his inventory, and he took Fih's hand again as they left the building.

Techno stayed alert as they walked back through the village, and he was rewarded with a quick flash of curly brown hair.

"Wait here, I have to do somethin'," he told Phil, and darted after it.

Wilbur must have noticed him following, because he was waiting for Techno right around the corner, smiling like always. "Hey!"

Techno suddenly realized that he had absolutely no plan, so instead of saying something, he just took the yellow shirt and the hat out of his inventory and shoved them into Wilbur's arms.

The boy blinked at the clothes, then at Techno, then at the clothes again. "... Are these for me?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

Techno shrugged awkwardly. "You were nice to me and it's cold."

"It's not that cold," Wilbur argued, but his grip on the clothes tightened.

Phil rounded the corner then, and whatever he had been getting ready to say died in his throat as he saw why Techno had run off. "Oh, hello. Wilbur, right?"

Wilbur nodded, putting the clothes into his inventory like he didn't want Phil seeing them.

A strange look appeared on Phil's face. It reminded Techno of the way he'd looked at him before helping him choose a name. He crouched down next to the two boys so he was closer to eye level with them. "Wilbur, where do you live?"

"Oh, I move around a lot," Wilbur said breezily, gesturing over to the edge of the village. "I live over that way now."

"Do you live with anyone?"

Techno noticed hesitation this time before Wilbur replied "Of course, I live with my parents."

Parents. Techno was only loosely familiar with that word, but from what he understood, he didn't have any. The habit he had formed with Phil made him ask, before he could think better of it, "What are parents like?"

Both Wilbur and Phil stared at him for a moment, and he ducked his head slightly, fidgeting with the hem of his cloak.

"... They're nice," Wilbur said quietly. "They look after you, and protect you, and teach you things."

"Oh, like Fih."

Phil made a weird chirping sound, and when Techno glanced over at him, he had a hand over his mouth and it looked like he was about to cry.

"Are you okay?" Techno asked him, suddenly concerned.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm great!" Phil wiped surreptitiously at his eyes and sniffed quietly. He was beaming, Techno noticed. "I'm okay, I promise."

Wilbur was watching them with an expression Techno recognized, because he had felt the feeling that caused it. It was a _wanting_ expression.

Techno tilted his head to one side, confused. "Wilbur, are _you_ okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Wilbur asked, the expression disappearing like fog in sunlight.

"Wilbur," Phil said gently. "Are you living on your own?"

There was a long, long pause. Then Wilbur nodded once.

"But you said -" Techno cut himself off, glancing between Phil and Wilbur with more confusion than he'd ever felt before. Why had Wilbur said he had parents if he didn't?

"I'll explain later, Techno," Phil told him with a small smile.

"People in small towns don't really like orphans," Wilbur said to Phil, and he kept his chin up while he said it. "I'm doing okay, though."

Techno shook his head. "They were mean to you."

Wilbur shrugged. "Well, yeah."

The weird expression crossed Phil's face again, and he glanced at Techno with a question in his eyes. Techno understood, somehow, what he meant, and gave him a firm nod.

"I know it can be hard on the streets," Phil told Wilbur in a gentle, understanding voice. "Would you like some food and a place to stay? It doesn't have to be permanent. You can even do chores in exchange, if it would make you feel better."

Wilbur looked startled by the offer, and he glanced over at Techno like he could explain what had just happened.

Luckily, he could. "Fih helped me, now we want to help you. It's no fun bein' alone."

"... I don't want to owe you anything," Wilbur said finally. "What kind of chores?"

"Oh, taking care of the animals, helping in the fields, things like that. We can work out details as we go," Phil assured him.

Wilbur hesitated for a few more seconds, then nodded. "Okay."

Phil stood and offered a hand to each boy, smiling. "Then let's go home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Techno: Phil I want this one
> 
> Phil: That one?
> 
> Wilbur: *Is polite and nice to Techno and admits to not having parents*
> 
> Phil, already looking for adoption papers: Ah, yes, that one
> 
> Sorry if the swapping back and forth between Phil and Fih was confusing! Techno is slowly starting to think of him as Phil, but the Fih nickname comes back when Techno is scared or wants comfort :)


	9. Emerald Green

It was different, Dream discovered, traveling with people and trying to be friends with them.

For one thing, if you were just traveling with people, you didn't have to talk to them. Dream had been fine keeping his mouth shut for the most part (he hadn't, but he was used to it. It was familiar, at least). Now, though, he let himself start talking a little more. Asking questions, making quiet comments. He was particularly awkward when trying to join conversations, but they adapted quickly, and so did he.

This was fine until he started getting comfortable talking more.

It first happened when Bad mentioned a story he'd read, which happened to be one of Dream's favorites. He had immediately launched into a dissection of the plot and the main themes of the story that had been brewing in his head ever since he'd first read it, and only stammered to a stop when he realized he had been talking for twenty minutes. He made a few quiet, awkward apologies (Bad assured him it was okay, but George's sigh and Sapnap's rapid topic change made it clear it wasn't) and didn't speak more than a few words for the rest of the day.

His imaginary friends hadn't minded when he talked that much, but these were real people, real people who could very easily decide he was being annoying and kick him out of their group. He made himself a promise to be more careful.

That promise was broken a few days later because of Sapnap (of course it was Sapnap).

"Dream, you know a lot of stories, right?" Sapnap asked one night as they curled up in a corner of a cave to sleep.

"... A few," Dream said cautiously. "Why do you ask?"

Sapnap shrugged. "I'm not tired."

Dream just blinked at him. He had absolutely no idea how those two things were correlated.

"I think he's asking for a bedtime story," Bad told him, his tail twitching in amusement.

"Oh." Bedtime stories were a concept that Dream was vaguely familiar with, though he'd never been given one. "Well... what sort of story do you want to hear?"

Sapnap thought for a minute. "I don't know, a happy one."

A happy story. Dream knew a lot of those, luckily, and he decided to take a chance on one he thought Sapnap might like. "Okay, um... Once upon a time, there was a shoemaker."

He stumbled through a telling of the Elves and the Shoemaker, slowly gaining confidence as he went. By the end, he was using different voices for different characters and wondering why he had been so hesitant at the beginning.

Sapnap was sitting cross-legged on the cave floor, grinning. "Another one, another one!"

"Isn't the point of a bedtime story that you go to sleep afterward?" Dream asked, lightly poking Sapnap's forehead like George sometimes did.

"Yes it is," Bad agreed sleepily, burrowing down deeper under his blanket. George was already asleep. "Good night, everyone."

Sapnap pouted. "Aw."

For some reason, that reaction made Dream feel really good. Like he had done something right, done something well. "I can tell you another one tomorrow night, if you want."

"Really??"

Dream nodded. "Really. But you have to go to sleep now, or you'll sleep in and I won't have time for a story tomorrow."

Sapnap instantly scrambled under his blanket and closed his eyes.

After a moment of processing that that had actually _worked,_ Dream shifted his mask up to blow out the lantern and curled up under his own blanket, as away from the others as he could manage in the small space. He didn't want to intrude.

So bedtime stories became a regular part of their routine. Every night, they would find a place to sleep, and Sapnap would put his blanket around his shoulders like a cape and listen as Dream told him a story. The others listened too, of course, and though George never stayed awake long enough to hear the endings, he slowly relaxed around Dream as the stories continued.

Despite the slowly forming acceptance, Dream still slept apart from the others until one particularly cold night. He woke up with Sapnap curled in his arms like a living heater, and when he tentatively asked about it in the morning, Sapnap grumbled something about not wanting him to get sick. He was forcibly dragged into the pile with the others the next night, and slept there of his own volition the night after.

He was starting to feel, slightly, like a part of the group. Like he was starting to be their friend instead of just some random kid they picked up.

Of course that's when things went wrong.

They stopped in a village when their food started to run out, and just like they had last time, Bad and George stayed at their camp while Sapnap went to steal. Dream joined him, hoping to serve as a distraction again. Besides, he still had a little money left to get food legally.

"Oh, hey, it's that kid again," Sapnap said in surprise, looking at a poster on the wall of a building. "I've been seeing these all over the place."

It was the poster of _him._ Dream felt slightly sick. How long would he be running from this? How far would he have to go?

"The people who put them up must really be worried about him if they're willing to pay that much," Sapnap reasoned, glancing over at Dream.

He forced himself to nod and ruffle Sapnap's hair like he'd seen George and Bad do. "I'm sure they are."

For a while, despite Dream being on edge, things were fine. Sapnap led him around, chattering about anything and everything, whispering excitedly as they left stores about what he'd managed to grab.

Then he slipped up.

"Hey!" someone shouted, and Dream turned to see a farmer grabbing Sapnap's wrist. "You little thief!"

"I don't know what you're talking about, you're hurting me, please let go!" Sapnap was tearing up, obviously playing up the terrified little kid - Dream had seen him practice his acting - but there was a spark of real fear in his eyes as he struggled to pull away.

The farmer shook Sapnap's arm roughly. "What else did you take, huh?"

"I didn't steal anything!"

Other people, drawn to the commotion, began to mutter amongst themselves about seeing Sapnap earlier, about being certain they had one more loaf of bread or one more apple than they'd had when he left.

Dream watched from the sidelines, frozen, with absolutely no idea what to do. He didn't know how, but he _had_ to help Sapnap.

There was a poster on the wall.

_You can buy a lot with ten diamonds._

Before he could think twice about it, Dream was shoving his cloak and his mask in his inventory and darting through the gathering crowd. "HEY!"

The farmer looked up at him with a sneer. "Who's this, brat, your accomplice?"

"I was watching," Dream said as bravely as he could, ignoring Sapnap's wide eyes as he connected the dots and realized who Dream was. "He didn't steal anything."

"Well so was I -" the farmer started before someone cut him off.

"Stephan," a woman hissed. "That's the boy from the poster."

Shock rippled through the crowd as they glanced between Dream and the poster. Murmured agreements followed as people realized that yes, this was the boy worth ten diamonds.

A tall man in dented iron armor pushed through the crowd. "Alright, alright, what's going on here?"

Stephan hesitated for a heartbeat. Dream could see him weighing the reward in his head, wondering if it was really worth it to keep accusing Sapnap. After a moment, just like Dream had hoped, he decided it wasn't and let go of Sapnap's wrist. "Constable Haywood, sir, I found the boy on those wanted posters that are hanging up everywhere."

Constable Haywood - Dream doubted he was a real constable, he was probably the only one in the village with armor and had given himself the title - looked Dream over with a huff. "Well, so you have. Is that you, boy?"

"It is," Dream replied, keeping his chin up and gaze steady, like his father had taught him.

Sapnap was still standing there, staring at him in shock. Dream glanced at him when the constable turned back to Stephan, then flicked his gaze toward the edge of town. _Go._

Sapnap shook his head, and Dream saw real tears start to form in his eyes.

Dream tilted his head slightly, glancing meaningfully again out of town. _Go. Please._ He didn't know how much longer he could be an effective distraction.

Slowly, almost stumbling, Sapnap backed away, then turned and sprinted off toward the edge of the village. The crowd barely noticed him go. Good.

The thought of returning to his parents, to that cold and empty house, made Dream feel a little sick, especially when he thought about how he would be punished for running away (or being kidnapped, he still wasn't certain which they believed). But for Sapnap? For all of his new friends? He would happily sacrifice his freedom for theirs.

"Well, then, boy," the constable said, turning back to Dream. "Clay, the poster says. Come with me."

Dream followed him toward a low, stone building near the center of town. For a moment, he considered making a break for it; he could probably get away from the 'constable' without much difficulty. But then he thought about the rest of the town between him and freedom, who also knew who he was, and about the shocked, slightly betrayed look on Sapnap's face.

Even if he got away, they probably wouldn't want to see him anyway.

* * *

Sapnap ran. He could hardly see through the tears streaming down his cheeks, and he kept stumbling, and his hands were scraped from where he had tripped and caught himself on the rough bark of trees, but none of that _mattered._

Dream was gone.

Dream had taken off his mask and stood up to that farmer for him, had pretended he didn't know him, had caused the best distraction he'd ever seen.

And Sapnap had _left him._

A sob tore out of his throat. He'd left Dream, he'd left him, he'd left him he'd left him he'dlefthim _he'dlefthim_ -

"Sapnap?"

Sapnap liked to tell everyone that he was grown up. That he was just as mature as the others, that he could handle things, that he wasn't a baby. But right now? Right now, he slammed full-force into George and started _sobbing._

George stiffened, then carefully wrapped his arms around him. "Woah, woah, Sapnap, what happened? Where's Dream?"

Sapnap started to wail.

"George, is he - oh, dear, Sapnap, what happened?" A hand started gently ruffling his hair, and he knew it was Bad, trying to calm him down like always.

Everything ached, and it felt like the whole world was snarled in a horrible, confusing tangle. He'd left Dream and Dream wasn't Dream, he was a kidnapped boy named Clay worth more money than Sapnap had ever seen in his life, and he hadn't finished yesterday's story.

For some reason, that hurt the most. He would never get to hear Dream finish it now.

"Th-they're taking him away," Sapnap sobbed. "They're taking him away, I'm not gonna see him again ever, I don't even know where he lives -"

"Hang on, hang on, slow down," Bad said gently. "Who's taking who away?"

Sapnap sniffled a little and pulled away from George's chest so he could see them both. "The people in the village. Dream's..." He choked back another sob. "Dream's name isn't Dream, his name is Clay and he's the boy from the posters I told you about."

"The one with the ransom of ten diamonds?" George asked in shock.

For some reason, Bad had gone completely, scarily still. "... Sapnap, what happened? Tell me everything."

It took a little while. Sapnap wasn't the best storyteller, especially with a true, awful story that he was right in the middle of. But he did his best, and by the time he finished, Bad's tail was lashing in a way he'd never seen before.

"We're going to go get him." There was absolutely no room for argument in Bad's tone.

George tried anyway. "What? Why? He's been lying to us this whole time!"

Bad leveled a terrifying glare at him. "Dream and I had a talk. He wasn't kidnapped, he ran away, and it was because his parents are terrible, terrible people. We're not going to let them send him back."

"He wanted to get sent back," Sapnap realized with a horrible, gut-wrenching certainty. "He wanted them to focus on him and send him back so they'd let me go. He's not gonna fight them."

George hesitated for a few long moments. Then he put on his glasses, which glowed ever so slightly with enchantments. "Alright. Let's go."

* * *

They waited until it was dark to make their move. Bad, as was usual when they needed to get close to humans, had on a heavy cloak and was carefully keeping his eyes as dim as he could. George's glasses were enchanted to let him see in the dark, so he was taking the lead. And Sapnap had a stick he'd found, a sinking feeling in his gut, and the desperate urge to help his friend.

They snuck carefully into town, looking for official-looking buildings ("They'll probably keep him in the constable's office, from what Sapnap said," George had reasoned).

"There," Bad said softly, pointing to a building made of stone bricks. "I bet that's it."

"You remember the plan?" George asked at the same volume.

Sapnap and Bad both nodded. They had discussed the plan in depth while waiting for the sun to set.

George crept up to the building and listened for a few long seconds at the door. Evidently, he didn't hear anything, because he cautiously tested the doorknob, breathing a silent sigh of relief when he discovered it wasn't locked.

"Good luck," Bad whispered, tugging the hood of his cloak further over his face and melting back into the shadows, pulling them around himself like a concealing blanket.

Sapnap had a sudden, aching need to hold someone's hand, for someone to tell him that this would work and everything would be okay, but he stamped the urge down as he followed George into the building.

They split up to cover more ground, George leaving him with nothing but a solemn nod and a promise to meet back outside in fifteen minutes. The idea made sense, and outside, in the daylight, Sapnap had agreed eagerly to it. Now, though, he had to fight back another wave of tears as he crept down hallways and peeked around doors.

Eventually, he found a staircase leading down, and followed it to what looked like storage rooms. He was about to turn around and head back upstairs when he heard a soft sound.

Sapnap paused, straining his ears to listen.

For a moment, there was nothing. Then, quietly, almost too soft to hear, it came again. A hum, in the pattern that Sapnap always used to signal to the others that it was him, it was safe. There was a pause. Then it came again.

Hope swirling in his chest, Sapnap followed the sound past room after room, stopping in front of the last door on the right. He rested his hand gently on the wood. "Dream?"

The sound cut off abruptly.

"Dream, is that you?" Sapnap asked, trying to keep his voice down so he wouldn't be heard.

"... Sapnap?" There was some shuffling, then Dream's voice was clearer. It sounded like he'd walked over to the door. "Sapnap, what are you doing here??"

"We came to get you, stupid!"

" _'We'?_ "

Sapnap tested the door and hissed in irritation when the handle refused to budge. "It's locked. Do you know where the key is?"

Dream tapped the door urgently. "Sapnap, _stop._ Get out of here, I don't want you getting caught."

"We're not leaving without you!" he snapped, feeling the burn of tears yet again. He wouldn't leave his friend behind this time.

Dream was quiet for a moment, then said quietly "I think the constable has them. Please, Sapnap, just go. Your safety is more important than mine."

"It _isn't!_ " Sapnap actually stomped his foot in irritation. For someone so smart, why was Dream being so _stupid?_ "You're just as important as we are, Dream, and we're _not_ gonna leave without you!"

"But I've been lying to you." Dream sounded so _sad._

Sapnap sighed. "That's a _later_ thing, Dream. I'm gonna go find the keys, I'll be back. Promise." He turned and ran back upstairs before Dream could answer.

George met him near the front door. "I found the constable - he's asleep in his office - but not Dream."

"I found him, but he's locked in a room," Sapnap explained quickly. "He said the constable probably has the keys."

"These keys, you mean?" George asked, holding up a ring of keys and grinning. "He left them on his desk and I thought we would probably need them."

Sapnap grinned back and led George down to the room where Dream was being held.

"Alright, idiot, let's get you out of here," George grumbled, trying each key to see which one fit in the lock.

"George?" Dream sounded almost surprised that he was here.

George made a small noise of triumph as he found the right key and unlocked the door, pulling it open to let Dream out.

Sapnap couldn't help it. He darted over and hugged Dream as tight as he could, like a hug could say everything he wanted to say at that moment but couldn't.

Like he always did when people touched him, Dream froze for a moment, then hugged back just as tight. Like he had a lot of things to say too.

"Come on." George's words were harsh, but his tone was gentle. "You can hug later, we need to get out of here."

Sapnap reluctantly backed away from the hug, but he grabbed Dream's hand instead, leading him up the stairs and out of the building. He didn't trust that Dream would follow them all the way out otherwise. George ran to put the keys back on the constable's desk, leaving them standing nervously in the entryway for a minute, and then all three of them left the building.

Bad melted back out of the shadows as they exited, ignoring Dream's hiss of surprise. "There hasn't been any activity out here. We should be clear."

George led them out of the village and back to their campsite with little difficulty, even while avoiding the mobs that had appeared with the setting of the sun. Then, finally, they all felt the tension leave and exhaustion hit, and they collapsed in a rough circle.

"Why did you do that?" Sapnap asked quietly, looking Dream in the eyes for once. They were a bright emerald green, and they didn't stay locked onto his for very long.

"Do what?"

"Sacrifice yourself for him," George elaborated.

Dream shrugged like it wasn't important. Like it didn't matter. "He was in trouble, I had to help."

"There were other ways to help," Bad said gently. "You didn't have to do that."

"People are greedy. It was the fastest way."

"But I wouldn't have ever seen you again!" The thought burst out of Sapnap's mouth before he could stop it, though he wasn't certain he wanted to. He finally, _finally_ let himself start crying again. "And - and I wouldn't have ever heard the end of yesterday's story, and I wouldn't have ever heard any other stories, and I would have missed you, and -" He cut himself off with a sob.

Dream was staring at him like he'd never properly seen him before. "... Sapnap, there... There are other stories out there, you don't have to hear them from me."

"But I _want_ to because you're my _friend!_ I don't want you to go away!" Sapnap wailed. "You should be here with us, not off somewhere with mean parents!"

Dream shot a betrayed glance at Bad, who held his hands up defensively. "That's all he knows, I didn't say anything specific, I promise."

"I wouldn't even be able to come visit because I don't know where you live," Sapnap continued miserably, wiping tears away as best he could.

There was silence for a moment, and the only sound was Sapnap's quiet sobs. Then, hesitantly, Dream opened his arms for a hug.

Sapnap practically tackled him, burying his face in Dream's chest, sobbing harder.

Dream very slowly brought a hand to Sapnap's head and began running his fingers through Sapnap's hair like Bad sometimes did. "I didn't know you cared that much about me."

George groaned. "Of course we do, you idiot."

"You're one of us now," Bad said with finality. "We're a team, and we take care of each other."

"Promise you won't do that again," Sapnap whispered, his grip on Dream's shirt tightening.

Dream wrapped his arms around Sapnap and buried his face in his hair. He took a shaky breath like he was close to crying, too. "Okay.

"I promise."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sapnap: If you don't start caring about your own well-being I'm going to start crying and MAKE you care about your own well-being!!
> 
> Dream's really and truly a part of the group now!!! :D


	10. Survive and Protect

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a little bit of violence this chapter! It's not too graphic, I don't think, but I marked it with these * just in case you want to skip it.

Having Wilbur around was an adjustment.

For one thing, he was constantly staring at Techno and Phil when he didn't think they were looking (Techno was, and he was pretty sure Phil was too). Techno made a happy little squeak when Phil gave him new books he'd picked up in the village, and Wilbur turned to look at him so fast he almost hurt his neck (was this what Phil had meant by being ashamed? The feeling of burning and shrinking and wanting him to just _stop looking?_ ).

For another, he was almost always humming something. When they were working in the fields, when they were taking care of animals (Wilbur named one of the horses Milo and spent hours curled up in his stall, murmuring and humming to him), when they were just relaxing in the house, Wilbur had a tune in his head and wasn't afraid to share it.

The first time he really, properly sang was the first time Phil left them alone in the house. He had gone to get quartz from the Nether, and he had deemed it too dangerous to bring the two of them along. Techno thought that was dumb, as he had lived there for as long as he could remember, but Phil told him quietly that he didn't want to leave Wilbur in the house alone, which made enough sense that he didn't protest.

"How long did Phil say he'd be gone?" Wilbur asked, sitting upside down on the couch, legs braced up against its back and head hanging down toward the floor.

Techno shrugged, turning the page in his newest book. "An hour or so? He said it wouldn't be too long."

Wilbur was quiet for a few minutes, then broke the silence again. "What are you reading?"

Techno held up the cover so he could read the title.

"Oh, types of trees, interesting," Wilbur hummed, rolling over so he could see the words right side up. "What kind are you reading about right now?"

"Oak."

"There's a song about that, you know."

Techno glanced over at him, frowning. "Why would there be a song about trees?"

"There's songs about everything!" Wilbur told him, and he had the light in his eyes that Phil got when he talked about a new project.

Techno shrugged. "I wouldn't know. I don't think I've ever heard a song before."

Wilbur gasped like he'd admitted to a horrible crime. "That's _awful!_ I'm going to sing the tree song for you, put the book down."

Oh, good, that's what he'd been hoping for. Techno put a small scrap of fabric in the book to mark his place and set it to one side, turning to fully face his friend.

"I wish I had a guitar," Wilbur muttered, then closed his eyes and began to sing. "Of all the trees that grow so fair, old England to adorn, greater are none beneath the sun than oak and ash and thorn."

Techno was vaguely familiar with music; Phil hummed a lot, and he had heard the piglins in the bastion make music that focused on rhythm instead of melody. But he'd never heard anything like this. He found himself leaning forward slightly, ears pricked.

"Sing oak and ash and thorn, good sirs, all on a midsummer's morn, surely we sing of no little thing in oak and ash and thorn." Wilbur started patting his leg in rhythm, eyes still closed, swaying to the sound.

Techno watched and listened with rapt attention all the way through the song, hardly breathing for fear it would ruin the sound of the music.

Finally, Wilbur finished and opened his eyes. "Well?"

"I think I like music," he breathed. "Do you know more?"

Wilbur's grin was answer enough.

Phil came back an hour or so later to find the two of them fast asleep on the floor, papers scattered around them, documenting their attempts to come up with their own song that incorporated the piglin music Techno was familiar with.

That was a bit of a turning point for them; Wilbur was more willing to be open with them, he started singing instead of humming, and Techno stopped being startled by the presence of a third person in the house. Wilbur still stared sometimes, though.

When Wilbur had been in the house for about two weeks, Phil sat both of them down for a talk.

"I think it's time I teach you to protect yourselves," he told them. "Techno, you know how to use a sword already, but I think I can show you how to use it more efficiently. Wilbur, have you ever used a weapon?"

Wilbur shook his head slowly.

"That's alright, no time to learn like the present. Follow me, both of you." Phil led them outside to a small area that he had never shown them before. There were logs wrapped with wool and leather standing on one end, and there were painted circles of wood hanging on nearby trees. All of them had cuts and dents in them.

"What are these for?" Wilbur asked cautiously.

"I'm not going to start you on real enemies, but the air isn't a good target." Phil patted one of the logs. "These are a good starting point."

Techno frowned. "Why isn't the air good?"

"When you attack something, you're going to have resistance. Better to have something solid to hit so you can get used to that at the beginning," Phil explained.

Realism. Techno nodded and took out his sword (he almost always had it in his inventory).

Phil shook his head and handed him a small sword made of wood. "Let's start with these."

"Why?" Techno turned the wooden sword over in his hands in confusion; it wasn't even sharp.

"They're safer to learn with," Phil explained patiently, handing a second sword to Wilbur. "I don't want either of you to get hurt."

Wilbur held the sword awkwardly, like he didn't know what to do with it. It took Techno a second to realize that he probably didn't. "Why do we need to know this, anyway? What's the point?"

Phil corrected his grip and showed him how to hold it properly. "Because the world is dangerous, and eventually you're going to go explore it for yourself. I won't be there to protect you when that happens, and I want you to be safe."

Techno's ears flattened. "What do you mean you won't be there?"

Phil paused, then knelt down to Techno's level. "Techno, I will always be here when you need me, I promise you. But neither of you will be happy here forever. And besides, it's better to be able to protect yourself than to always rely on someone else. Just in case."

Just in case. This was Phil being cautious, just like always, but with Techno and Wilbur instead of potion supplies. That made sense, he could handle that. Techno nodded hesitantly and got into a fighting stance.

"Try shifting your weight here," Phil instructed, gently nudging him into a stance that actually did feel a lot better.

They stayed in the little training clearing for several hours, and by the end of it, Phil was confident enough in both of their abilities to let them fight each other, with some strict rules and careful supervision. Techno won, but he had to remind himself several times that this was Wilbur, not an enemy trying to kill him, and he needed to be careful.

"You did a great job today, boys," Phil told them, ruffling their hair as he led them back to the house. "I'm proud of you."

Techno beamed, but Wilbur just ran a sullen finger over the pommel of his sword. "I'm not that good, though."

"Mate, you've never used a sword before!" Phil reminded him with a gentle laugh. "That was great for your first time."

"Swords are hard," Techno commented.

Phil nodded. "They are indeed. Which is why I want you two to get used to them now rather than later."

"I'm gonna beat you one day, Tech," Wilbur said suddenly, and though he was smiling, there was determination in his eyes. "Just wait."

"Maybe in a million years," Techno shot back. He and Wilbur had started doing this recently: light jabs, little jokes at the other's expense. It made Phil happy to see them 'bonding,' and it was fun, so Techno was cautiously trying to learn the boundaries. This was well within them (he was pretty sure).

Wilbur rolled his eyes, grinning. "Whatever, it'll happen eventually."

"Mm-hmm."

As the days passed, Phil kept training them. They wouldn't go to the training area every day - Phil insisted they pace themselves and take breaks, and they had other things to do - but when they did, they would drill and mock-fight each other for several hours. Wilbur complained occasionally about it, usually after losing to Techno, but Techno was certain Phil had a reason for it.

He was, unfortunately, proven right.

"Are you two sure you'll be okay on your own?" Phil asked for the hundredth time. "I can bring you with me if you don't want to stay here by yourselves."

"You'll be faster alone, you told us that, and it'll only be a few hours," Wilbur groaned. "We'll be fine, just _go_ already, Phil."

Phil hesitated still, for just a minute, then gave each of them a quick hug. "Be safe, I'll be back soon."

"Bye, Fih," Techno hummed, giving him a tiny headbutt.

"Bye Phil!" Wilbur echoed.

Phil did a brief check of his inventory, looked anxiously over the two boys one more time, then stepped outside, flared his wings, and took off.

Wilbur watched from the doorway, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, and Techno wasn't far from it himself. He hadn't seen Phil fly often, and it was always amazing when it happened. Soon, Phil was just a speck in the distance.

"So what do you want to do?" Wilbur asked once they were inside and the door was closed.

Techno shrugged. "I don't know, probably read."

"Want to spar?"

"Sure," Techno agreed, going to the armory closet and bringing out their practice swords. Phil was a stickler for making sure the swords were properly put away.

The two of them ran out to the training area and started to spar (that was one of Techno's new favorite words), and Techno won all of the fights, which made Wilbur a little sulky. In an attempt to make him happy again, Techno asked for a song, which had the desired effect of making Wilbur smile.

They sat there in the shade for a while, Wilbur singing and both of them just talking. It was really nice.

Then, in response to a teasing comment, Wilbur gave Techno a light shove. Techno, of course, retaliated, and it quickly devolved into a wrestling match. Once again, Techno had to rein himself in to make sure he didn't hurt Wilbur on accident; once or twice, he caught himself wanting to bite Wilbur's arm to make him let go.

The scuffle was light-hearted, and Techno _should_ have won when he pinned Wilbur down, but Wilbur managed to wriggle away and dart off into the forest.

Techno hesitated, Phil's warnings about the forest ringing in his head ( _creepers, skeletons, a hidden ravine to the south_ ), but the drive to win was stronger than his caution, and he ran in after his friend.

Unfortunately, Wilbur was good at evading people who were looking for him. Techno soon lost track of him and started wandering around, searching, worry slowly building in his chest.

"Wilbur?" he called out finally, noticing with a spike of fear that it was starting to get dark. "Wilbur, can you hear me?"

There was no response for a moment. Then Techno's ears flicked at the most horrible sound he'd ever heard: Wilbur's terrified scream.

" _Wilbur!_ " Techno screamed, taking out his golden sword and sprinting toward the sound.

His friend was cowering against a large tree as three shambling, groaning figures surrounded him. The smell of death was heavy in the air, and there was blood on Wilbur's arm.

Techno felt something shift in his head, and suddenly he was back in the Nether, surrounded by enemies. _Them or him. Survive at all costs._ Except this time, he had someone else to protect as well.

One of the creatures - zombies, the books called them - glanced in Techno's direction as the other two shuffled closer to Wilbur, who whimpered and curled up tighter.

That was all it took.

*

Techno snarled and launched himself at the nearest zombie, nearly losing track of Phil's carefully taught sword skills in the rush of _survive protect survive._ He hacked at it a few times, got a lucky strike on its neck, and it went down, dissolving into a small pile of meat. The smell was _awful,_ but he ignored it and started attacking the next zombie.

Both of the remaining zombies turned to him, clearly seeing him as more of an immediate threat ( _good, focus on him, not Wilbur, he at least had a weapon_ ). They were slow, but they were much bigger than Techno, and two at once was too much. He started losing ground, defending more than attacking, and fear made him sloppy.

One of the zombies sank its teeth into Techno's shoulder, and he screamed in pain. The other one shambled forward, ready to dig in as well.

" _Leave him alone!_ " Wilbur darted forward, slamming his wooden sword into the second zombie's face, and Techno heard a _crack._ It fell apart like the first one had.

And Techno, scared and in pain and every bone in his body screaming _SURVIVE SURVIVE SURVIVE,_ turned and ripped out the remaining zombie's throat with his teeth.

The taste was horrific, and he gagged on congealed blood and spoiled meat, but the zombie dissolved, leaving them alone in the woods, in the dark, gasping for breath.

*

"Techno?" Wilbur's voice was small and shaky.

"Are you okay?" Techno knew he didn't sound much better.

Wilbur nodded slowly. "I... I'm sorry, I -"

"Apologize later." Techno grabbed his friend's hand and glanced up at the sky, noting where the moon was rising. He didn't know how to navigate the woods, but he knew directions, and he knew where the sun had been when they'd left the clearing. "Home is this way."

Suddenly, a large shadow covered them, and Techno automatically pushed Wilbur behind him, raising his sword.

The shadow landed, wings flared, and Fih made a sobbing, chirping sound. " _Boys!_ "

"Fih!" Techno shoved his sword into his inventory and ran forward, burying his face in Fih's chest, not caring about the blood.

Wilbur was right behind him, sobbing as he latched onto Fih's coat.

"I'm so sorry, I should have brought you with me, I'm so sorry," Fih whispered, running his fingers through their hair, pressing kisses to the tops of their heads. "Are you alright? Are you hurt? What happened? You know better than to be out here at night!"

"I ran off, it w-wasn't dark yet, Tech chased me," Wilbur said between hiccuping sobs. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to!"

Techno blinked away tears of his own, focusing on the most important question first. "Wil's hurt."

"So is Tech!"

Fih pulled back in alarm, looking over them both with anxious coos. "Oh, boys - zombies?"

Techno nodded, and his shoulder started to burn as the fear faded.

"Let's get you home quickly, we need to make sure these don't get infected," Fih said, and though he still sounded upset, he didn't sound scared anymore. He knew what to do and how to do it, like always.

Wilbur moved to wipe blood off of his face, then froze.

"Wilbur?" Fih asked, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Are you alright?"

"I - yeah, I'm fine," Wilbur muttered, turning away.

Fih frowned, carefully brushing Wilbur's hair away from his ear.

Techno gasped. Wilbur's ear was pointier than it had been earlier.

Wilbur's shoulders hunched, and he looked like he wanted to curl in on himself and disappear. "Please don't kick me out yet. I - Not at night, please."

"Kick you out? Why would I kick you out?" Fih asked, alarmed, his feathers rustling.

"Because I'm a freak," Wilbur muttered, turning back to face Fih properly, and now that he wasn't scared for his life, Techno could see the tiny tusks - just like his - poking out of Wilbur's mouth. "I can - I can shift."

Fih was quiet for a moment, then pulled Wilbur into another hug. "We'll talk about this later. I'm _not_ kicking you out, I promise, no matter what. Right now I just need to get the two of you home, alright?"

Wilbur nodded, letting out a shuddering breath, and Fih picked both of them up before taking off and flying home.

Later, their wounds bandaged and cleaned with potions, curled up together on Fih's bed underneath the comforting canopy of his wings, Techno held Wilbur tight as he drifted off to sleep.

A new word occurred to him, in the hazy moments where he was only partly awake. He'd only learned it recently, and he wasn't fully certain what it meant, but it felt right to apply it to Wilbur.

Techno curled tighter around his brother and fell asleep silently promising to always protect him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoo boy, that was a thing that just happened. Phil's not going to leave them alone for a long time. But hey, brothers pog!!
> 
> The song Wilbur sings is Oak & Ash & Thorn by The Longest Johns, btw! It's a very good song and I would highly recommend it


	11. I Can Shift

"Okay," Phil sighed, wrapping his hands around a warm mug of tea. "Let's start from the beginning, shall we?"

Wilbur shrugged, his own cup of tea sitting untouched on the table in front of him. His ears and teeth had gone back to normal shortly after they'd arrived home last night, and at the moment, he looked like a normal human child.

Techno watched quietly, mimicking Phil's pose, taking tiny sips of tea.

"You said you could shift. What did you mean?" Phil asked.

Wilbur shrugged again. "I can grow sharp teeth and fur and stuff."

"Whenever you want?"

"I don't want to."

Phil frowned. "Why not?"

"People don't like it." Wilbur poked absently at his mug. "They tend to scream and hit me. So I don't do it."

"Then why did you do it last night?"

Wilbur glanced up and made eye contact with Techno, then glanced away again. "It happens sometimes on accident."

Techno took another sip of tea, remembering the raw panic of last night and the drive to kill everything that was threatening his brother. Had Wilbur felt that, too? Is that why he shifted?

Phil hummed thoughtfully. "Interesting. Can you shift into anything you want?"

"No."

"Wilbur," Phil said gently. "I want to help, but I can't do that if you won't talk to me."

Wilbur glared at his mug. "What's there to talk about? I'm just a freak."

He'd used that word before, but it wasn't one Techno was familiar with. He frowned and asked "What's a freak?"

"It means -" Phil started, but Wilbur cut him off.

"A freak is something that shouldn't exist. It's bad and wrong and unnatural." The words twisted Wilbur's mouth into a cruel sneer, and he looked angry and sad and hurt.

Techno considered that for a moment, tapping his fingers against the warm ceramic in his hands. "... Am I a freak?"

" _No,_ " Phil said forcefully, pain in his voice, but Techno kept his gaze on Wilbur.

Wilbur looked back at him, hesitating, confused. "... No."

"Then neither are you," Techno said with a shrug, taking another sip of tea.

"That... What?"

Phil blinked, then smiled as he realized what Techno was doing. "Techno and I can't control who we are, can we?"

Wilbur slowly shook his head.

"If we can't, why are you any different?"

"I can _shift,_ " Wilbur insisted. "It's... I should be _normal,_ I'm normal now! I should be normal all the time!"

Phil laughed at that. "Wilbur, there's no such thing as normal. You can't control who you are or what you are, just like we can't, just like humans can't."

"Anyone who says different is stupid, and you're not stupid," Techno huffed.

Slowly, very very slowly, Wilbur reached out to wrap his hands around his mug. "... I can't shift all that far."

Techno's ears pricked up. "You looked like me last night!"

"It's a boar shape, I think," Wilbur said quietly. "That's what people say it looks like, anyway. Are you a boar? I've been kind of curious."

"Fih says I'm a piglin hybrid," Techno told him, hopping off of his chair and running over to the bookshelf. He picked up a book on the Nether (the one Phil had used to first teach him to read) and brought it back over to the table, opening it to the section on piglins. "See?"

Wilbur hummed, looking over a picture of a piglin brute. "They look a lot scarier than you."

Techno responded with a playful snarl, and to his delight, Wilbur snarled right back, tusks and all.

"You said you can't shift all that far," Phil reminded him. "What did you mean?"

"Shifting makes me tired," Wilbur explained, "especially when I do something big, like a tail. So I usually do smaller things like the tusks."

"And you said you can't shift into whatever you want?"

Wilbur shook his head. "I've got four. The boar, a bird, a fox, and a fish."

"A fish?" Techno asked, eyes wide.

"Yeah, I don't know what kind, though."

Techno grabbed his brother's hand and pulled him over to the bookshelf, putting the Nether book away and taking out one on fish. "Let's find out!"

Wilbur hesitated, then took a deep breath and closed his eyes. The tusks disappeared, and tiny scales started appearing on his cheeks. His ears flattened and stretched into something a little closer to fish fins. When he opened his eyes again, the color and the black in them had grown to cover most of the white.

Techno leaned in to get a closer look, poking one of the scales. "Do you breathe water?"

"Not right now, that's really hard."

Humming thoughtfully, Techno turned back to the book, flipping past anything that didn't look right. "The scales are kind of brown... What about this, do you think this is right?" He held up a page for Wilbur to see.

"A cod?" Wilbur read, head tilting to one side. "That... sounds right."

"Can I see the others?" Techno asked excitedly. Wilbur looked so much happier than he had a minute ago, asking questions was helping!

Wilbur smiled and nodded, closing his eyes again. The fish features disappeared, a thin layer of fur appeared around the edges of his face, and his ears grew pointed and furred. He opened his eyes and grinned, showing off much sharper teeth than usual.

"I've never seen a fox before," Techno admitted, watching one of Wilbur's ears flick like his did when he got kind of nervous.

"We can go on a trip to a taiga if you want, there's one not too far from here," Phil offered from his spot at the table. When Techno glanced over, he was watching them with a soft, warm smile.

Wilbur huffed and crossed his arms. "I'm better than an actual fox."

"Well, yeah, but I still want to see one," Techno said with a shrug.

That was apparently not what Wilbur had been expecting, because he blinked in surprise, ears pricked. "... Oh. Okay."

"... What's a taiga?"

"It's a type of forest," Phil explained, setting down his mug.

Techno smiled and nodded a thank you.

"... Tech, did you want to see the last one?" Wilbur asked hesitantly.

"Yes!!"

Wilbur closed his eyes one more time. The fur disappeared and his ears went back to normal, and tiny reddish-brown feathers began to poke out of his hair and around the sides of his face. His face looked slightly more angular when he opened his eyes, and his gaze was sharper.

"Can you grow wings?" Techno asked, craning his neck to get a better look at the little feathers.

Wilbur glanced away, looking a little uncomfortable. "Maybe. I haven't tried, I think it would be really tiring for me. Maybe tiring enough to hurt me."

"I think we can save experimenting on that for another time, when you're older," Phil said firmly, standing up and walking over to them. He gently smoothed down some of the tiny feathers, then put his hands on Wilbur's shoulders. "For now, though, I want you to do whatever makes you comfortable, alright? If you don't want to shift around us, then don't, but we won't judge you for it. You're safe here in whatever form you choose to take."

"I think it's cool that you can shift," Techno offered quietly.

Wilbur stared at them both for a moment, stunned. Then tears started welling up in his eyes, and he wiped them roughly away as the bird features disappeared. "Okay."

"Okay," Phil echoed with a warm smile. "Let's go take care of the horses, I know Milo probably misses you."

Wilbur hesitated. He glanced at Techno, and he seemed to come to some sort of decision, because he shifted into boar form and sprinted for the door. "Race you!"

Techno let out a squeak of indignation and chased after him, followed by Phil's laughter.

It wasn't so bad, really, even though the boost from shifting meant that Wilbur won easily. So long as his brother was happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wilbur will receive aggressive and constant validation until he learns to love himself and be proud of what he can do


	12. Of Course

"Wilbur, how old are you?" Phil asked out of the blue one day, as they were weeding the potato field.

"Almost nine," Wilbur responded confidently.

Techno looked up from a particularly stubborn weed. "Nine what?"

"... Years."

That still wasn't quite making sense, so Techno turned to Phil for an explanation.

"He's been alive for almost nine years," Phil explained.

"How do you know?" Techno pressed, still confused. "You can't remember things that far back, right? How do you know how long it's been?"

Wilbur just stared at him, brow furrowed. "Do you not know how old you are?"

Techno slowly shook his head.

Phil set down the handful of weeds he was holding and turned to fully face Techno. "Usually, people's parents keep track of how old they are. That's also how they know when their birthday is."

"What's a birthday?"

Wilbur gasped like he'd threatened Milo. "You don't know what a birthday is??"

Techno's ears flattened slightly, and he stared at the potato sprouts in front of him as he shook his head again. Another Overworld thing he'd never had a chance to learn.

"Wilbur," Phil said quietly, almost sternly. "Remember what we talked about."

"Don't make fun of someone for not knowing things," Wilbur mumbled. "Right. Sorry, Tech."

Techno just shrugged, but his ears relaxed at the apology.

Phil dusted the dirt off of his hands and stood up. "Alright, let's head inside for a bit so we can have a proper discussion. I needed a break anyway."

Wilbur and Techno exchanged glances, then hurried after Phil back to the house.

Phil sat them down at the table with bottles of water, then began his explanation. "Tech, a birthday is a yearly thing. A person's birthday is on the date that they were born, so it marks them turning one year older. Usually, they're given presents to celebrate."

"Presents?"

"Things someone thinks they'll like!" Wilbur piped up.

Techno nodded slowly. "I think I've seen people do that before."

"Really? Where?"

"At the bastion. The piglins gave each other gold things a lot, and they didn't give things back like they did when humans gave them gold," Techno explained.

Phil nodded, smiling. "That sounds like giving presents to me. The word for what the humans did is trading, by the way."

"And people give presents to... celebrate? What's celebrate?" Techno asked.

Wilbur patted the table excitedly. "It's when people are really happy about something! Like a sort of _yay, this happened!_ I like celebrating things, it's really fun."

"Oh." Techno turned all the new concepts over in his head for a minute, trying to pull them apart and put them with things he already knew. "Then... are we going to celebrate your birthday? You said you're almost nine, so it's soon, right?"

"Yeah!!" Wilbur gasped, eyes wide and excited, and they both turned to look at Phil.

Phil chuckled. "We can absolutely celebrate your birthday, Wilbur."

Wilbur let out a whoop, grinning ear to ear, but it faltered when he glanced back over at Techno. "... Tech, what about you?"

He blinked. "What about me?"

"You don't know when your birthday is, but you should get to celebrate too."

Techno shrugged a little awkwardly, trying to play it off. "It's fine. I don't mind. I'll get to watch yours, and that'll be good."

Wilbur frowned at him, brow furrowed in thought. Then his eyes widened and he slammed his hand down on the table. "We can share!!"

"... What?"

"Well, you don't have a birthday, right? I do, so you can celebrate mine with me!" Wilbur explained triumphantly. "Twins share birthdays, we can share too!"

Techno fought back the sudden, inexplicable urge to cry. "... Okay."

"I think that's an excellent idea," Phil said warmly, and when Techno looked over, he was smiling in the way he always did when he was proud of them. "We need to go finish up the chores, but how about we start planning after dinner tonight?"

"Yeah!" Wilbur cheered, pulling Techno off his chair and out the door, talking his ear off about typical birthday things the whole way.

* * *

Birthday planning was quite a bit of work, as it turned out. Phil seemed determined to go all out for their first birthday with him, and Wilbur was just as enthusiastic, bouncing ideas off of each other and leaving Techno occasionally very lost. Luckily, Phil and Techno did manage to shut down most of Wilbur's more extravagant suggestions.

At one point, Phil took Techno aside and asked him quietly what he thought Wilbur might want as a present. He seemed surprised at Techno's hesitant answer, though when he heard the explanation, he smiled and nodded and said he would see what he could do.

The day before Wilbur's birthday (" _Our_ birthday," Wilbur insisted, and Techno felt a weird surge of emotion every time he said it), Phil was very secretive. He sent Wilbur and Techno off to do chores while he did birthday things in the house, and during that time he made some sort of food that Techno had never smelled before, but whenever he was asked about it, he told them that it was a surprise and they would have to wait and see.

Finally, the morning came. Wilbur woke up early and woke Techno with a hissed "Happy birthday!!" and a gentle shake.

"Happy birthday," Techno replied hesitantly as he got out of bed.

Wilbur was obviously excited, but he sat down on the edge of his own bed and stared at the floor, a vulnerable side he didn't show very often making an appearance. "You know... I haven't gotten to do this for a while. Celebrate my birthday, I mean. I'm... I'm really glad we're sharing now. It's nice to share it with someone, you know?"

Techno thought for a moment, then walked over and sat down next to him. "I haven't gotten to celebrate my birthday _ever._ I wouldn't even have one if it wasn't for you, so... thanks. I'm glad we're sharin' it too."

"Today is gonna be great," Wilbur said with a grin, nudging Techno's shoulder with his own. "Do you think Phil is awake yet?"

"... We could go check," Techno suggested, offering a grin of his own.

Wilbur took his hand and pulled him carefully down the hallway, both of them stifling giggles and trying their best to tiptoe. Techno eased open the door to Phil's room and peeked in.

Phil was still asleep, curled up in a pile of blankets and pillows like usual. Or at least, if he was awake, he was doing a very good job of faking sleep.

Wilbur, who had looked in over Techno's head, grinned and slipped into the room, creeping over to the bed.

"Wil...?" Techno hissed as loudly as he dared.

His brother just held a finger to his lips, asking for quiet, still focusing on Phil. He took a few more steps, then pounced on top of Phil's legs.

Phil jolted awake, letting out a loud, startled chirp.

Techno and Wilbur both burst out laughing, Wilbur rolling off of Phil and Techno leaning against the doorframe for support.

"Yeah, yeah, good morning to you too," Phil grumbled, though he was smiling as he leaned over to ruffle Wilbur's hair. "Happy birthday, Wilbur, and happy birthday, Techno."

"It's already happy!" Wilbur beamed up at Phil, still giggling a little.

Phil's fake annoyance melted away, and he gave Wilbur a warm, genuine smile. "Good. You both deserve a happy birthday."

Wilbur turned and made grabby hands at Techno.

Recognizing it as Wilbur's _come here_ gesture, Techno hurried over and climbed onto the bed as well.

Phil smiled at him, too, and wrapped his wings gently around them both. "You two know I love you, right?"

"What does love mean?" Techno asked, almost shyly. He could guess a little of it from the tone.

"It means I care about you," Phil told him gently, running a hand through his hair. "I want you to always be happy and safe, and I'm so glad I have the chance to know you and watch you grow up."

Oh. That was... a lot. A lot of good, but a lot. Techno bumped his head against Phil's hand, trying to convey the sudden light-but-heavy feeling in his chest and the burn of unexpected tears; it was the same sort of feeling he got when Wilbur referred to it as "our birthday" rather than "my birthday."

Wilbur seemed to be having the same problem, as he wordlessly scooted over and hugged Phil tightly, which Phil returned as best as he could with one arm.

They stayed there for a few minutes, just wrapped in Phil's wings, before Phil asked quietly "Are you hungry, or do you want to stay here?"

"I'm hungry," Wilbur declared, pulling back and sitting up properly.

Techno nodded in agreement. "We can do this more later."

"Alright," Phil said with a smile, pulling his wings back so they had room to leave. "And because it's your birthday, we're going to have a special breakfast."

"What kind of special breakfast?" Wilbur asked as he hopped off of the bed.

Phil just grinned and beckoned them out of the room.

The special breakfast, as it turned out, was the weird food Phil had made the day before. He called it a cake, and Wilbur practically started vibrating in excitement when he saw it.

"This is a very important part of birthdays," Wilbur told Techno seriously, watching Phil put tiny candles in the cake. "You have to blow out the candles and make a wish, but if you tell anyone what you wished for, it won't come true."

"How does that work?" Techno asked, confused.

Wilbur shrugged. "Magic, I guess. It's just how wishes are."

"Ready?" Phil asked them, and when they both nodded, he lit the candles and set the cake on the table in front of them.

"On three," Wilbur said with a grin, glancing over at Techno.

Techno nodded and took his brother's hand.

"One, two, three!"

They managed to blow out all of the candles on the first try, and as Phil started cutting the cake into slices, Techno thought about his wish.

_Happy and safe, always,_ Phil had said, echoing Techno's promise from that first night in the Overworld. They were both already determined to make that happen, and Techno was fairly sure Wilbur was too, but a bit of magic in the mix couldn't hurt.

Phil handed them each a piece of cake, then cut a piece for himself. "Now this is only for birthdays, alright? Cake for breakfast isn't something that'll happen often."

"Why?" Techno asked, poking the cake suspiciously with a fork.

"It's okay to have occasionally, but too much isn't good for you," Phil explained. "And besides, healthy breakfasts help give you energy for the day. But we can make a few exceptions for special occasions."

That made sense, so Techno cautiously took a bite. It was _sweet,_ so sweet it surprised him, but after processing the new taste, he decided he liked it.

"It's good, right?" Wilbur asked around a mouthful of cake.

"Don't talk with your mouth full," Phil said absently.

Techno nodded enthusiastically and kept eating.

When they were done with breakfast (Wilbur had pleaded with Phil for a second piece of cake, but Phil had stayed firm, and Wilbur had eventually been persuaded to eat an apple instead), Phil put the rest of the cake in his inventory so it wouldn't go stale, the three of them grabbed day packs Phil had prepared yesterday, and they headed out.

"Where are we going?" Wilbur asked for the third time as Phil led them through the woods.

"It's a _surprise,_ Wil," Phil told him for the third time, very lightly batting him with one wing. "We'll be there soon, don't worry."

Techno tuned out Wilbur's light-hearted protests, focusing instead on the trees around them. They were so _big,_ and the forest was very, very pretty in the daytime. He hadn't been more than a few yards into the woods since the zombie incident, but in the day, with Phil here, he wasn't scared. They were completely safe.

After a few more minutes, Phil's wings rustled and he grinned. "We're here."

He led them out of the trees and into a massive clearing. There was a large pond - mostly clear, dotted with lily pads - right in the middle, and a small wooden dock extended out into the water.

"This is my favorite fishing spot," Phil told them, and his voice had taken on the tone that said this was really important to him.

"Fishin'?" Techno asked.

Phil nodded. "I thought I would teach the two of you to fish, if that's alright with you. It's safe to swim in, too, if you want to do that instead."

Techno and Wilbur glanced at each other, came to a silent agreement, then looked back at Phil. Wilbur spoke for both of them: "How does fishing work?"

It worked a lot like sitting, evidently. Phil gave them each a fishing pole, taught them how to bait a hook (Wilbur refused to touch the bait, he claimed it was too gross), and then they all sat on the dock and waited.

"This might take a while," Phil warned them. "The fish don't always bite - I've had times where I didn't catch anything at all."

"Then what's the point of it?" Wilbur asked, obviously confused.

Phil gently ruffled his hair. "The point is to relax, and to spend time with people you care about. Once you have that, the fish are just a bonus."

Techno nodded thoughtfully. "That sounds like a good birthday thing. I like spendin' time with you."

"I like spending time with you too, but I still want to actually _catch_ things."

Phil laughed at that, and Wilbur and Techno soon joined in.

It was nice, sitting on the dock, just talking quietly. Techno understood why Phil liked doing this so much. It was peaceful.

Suddenly, there was a tug on the fishing pole in his hands.

"Phil?" Techno asked in slight alarm.

"You've got a bite," Phil told him, leaning over and putting a hand on his shoulder. There was an excited glint in his eyes. "Pull it in, gently. Don't tug too hard or the line will snap."

Carefully, with Phil's guidance, Techno managed to reel in the fish. It was decently sized, according to Phil, so he put it in his inventory, a little stunned that he'd actually managed to catch one.

They each caught a fish, in the end; Wilbur caught one next, then Phil.

And then, well... Wilbur was awfully close to the edge of the dock, and had just finished bragging about how his fish was bigger than Techno's before getting distracted by a bird, and Phil had said the water was safe for swimming...

The scream was totally worth getting soaked by the resulting splash.

Phil looked like he could hardly breathe he was laughing so hard, and Techno wasn't far behind him, though he was aware enough to get off the dock before he could get dragged into the water in retaliation. Even Wilbur laughed a little, once the indignation burned away, and he swam happily around the dock in his cod form.

Once Techno had his breathing under control, he edged over to the water, took off his shoes, and hesitantly put one foot in. It wasn't cold, at least, just pleasantly cool. It was still a _big_ body of water, and it made him a little uneasy to be willingly going into it.

"C'mon, Tech!" Wilbur chirped, drifting closer, fish eyes bright. "The water's really nice!"

"Mm-hmm," Techno agreed absently, trying to work up the courage to step in the rest of the way.

Wilbur frowned and swam all the way over, pulling himself up onto the bank next to Techno. "What's wrong?"

"I've never done this before," Techno admitted quietly.

Wilbur blinked. Then he grinned, stepping back into the water and taking Techno's hands in his. "Okay, I'll show you how! C'mon, it's not as bad as it looks."

Slowly, one step at a time, Wilbur guided him into the water, rambling the whole time to keep him distracted from how much _water_ there was, _why was there so much water?_

"Wil, I don't think I want to go further than this," Techno said uneasily as the water passed his knees.

"Okay, that's fine." Wilbur let go of him and took a few more steps backward, then grinned. Techno only had a moment to register that as Wilbur's _I'm getting an idea that you won't like_ grin before Wilbur was running his hand through the water and creating a wave to splash Techno.

Techno let out a startled squeak, taking a half step back to steady himself. Then it clicked that _oh,_ this was a _competition_ now. Competitions he could do.

Phil watched them with amusement from the dock, his feet in the water, calling out occasional advice as they splashed around. It ended up as a draw, since Techno wasn't comfortable going deep enough to get really good waves, and in this form, Wilbur got tired faster than Techno did. It was a lot of fun, though, and when they collapsed on the shore to dry off in the sun, breathing hard, they looked over at each other and grinned.

"Ready to head back, boys?" Phil asked after a few minutes.

Techno sat up and nodded.

"Aw," Wilbur pouted, sitting up as well. "Do we have to?"

Phil chuckled as he gathered up their remaining fishing supplies and stepped off of the dock. "We can always come back, Wil. Like I said, this is one of my favorite fishing spots."

"Can you take us with you again next time?" Techno asked.

"Of course I can."

The walk back to the house seemed shorter than the walk to the pond, though maybe that was just because there was no mystery. They knew where they were going now. There was, however, a tilt to Phil's smile that said the surprises weren't finished.

Techno was proven right when, once they got home, Phil sat them both down on the floor of the living room.

"I think it's about time I gave you two your birthday presents," he told them with a grin.

Techno's ear flicked in surprise; somehow, despite Wilbur calling it "our" birthday and Phil not excluding him from any other birthday activity so far, it hadn't occurred to him that he might get a present too. "You got me a present?"

"Of course I did." And he said it so calmly, so matter-of-factly, that you wouldn't think there was any other possibility at all. Of course he got Techno a present. Of course.

Techno felt like crying again. "Oh."

"Here, Wilbur, how about you open yours first?" Phil took a large box out of his inventory and slid it over to Wilbur.

"This is for me?" Wilbur breathed, eyes wide. The box was almost as long as Techno was tall.

Phil smiled and handed him a small knife. "Of course."

Of course. The words seemed to hit Wilbur, too, because he stopped to blink for a moment before taking the knife and carefully cutting the box open.

When he folded back the top and peeked inside, he let out a choked sort of gasp that Techno had never heard before, one hand coming shakily up to cover his mouth.

"Techno mentioned that you wanted one," Phil explained.

Wilbur turned to Techno, and there were tears in his voice when he softly asked "You remembered?"

Techno struggled to find other words, but there was really only one thing he could say. "Of course I remembered."

That seemed to do it, because Wilbur let out a sob, and then Phil was wrapping a wing around him, and Techno was hugging him, and Wilbur was sobbing out "Thank you" over and over again, clinging to his brother like a lifeline.

When the tears finally subsided, Wilbur reached into the box and carefully, carefully pulled out a worn but beautiful guitar.

"What _is_ a guitar?" Techno asked, wanting to poke it but not daring to touch it for fear of messing it up.

"It's an instrument," Wilbur told him, wiping away tear tracks before settling the guitar into his lap. He rested the fingers of one hand against the thin strips of metal attached in a row to the wood, then gently plucked them with the other.

And they made _music._

Techno watched and listened, enraptured, as Wilbur began to coax a song from the wood and metal, and then he began to sing. It was like he had two voices, and it was like nothing Techno had ever heard. He suddenly understood why Wilbur had wanted this, why he had reacted so strongly to seeing it.

Wilbur didn't sing for long. He finished with a strum of the metal strips, beaming like the sun.

"That was incredible, Wil," Phil told him, with an amount of sincerity only Phil could pull off.

"Thanks," Wilbur mumbled, still beaming, setting his guitar down carefully. "It's Techno's turn now, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is. Here you go, Tech - be careful, it's heavy." Phil handed Techno a much smaller box, which did indeed weigh more than Techno was expecting.

Wilbur handed him the knife, and he very gently cut open the box to look inside.

Oh.

Oh, wow.

Techno set down the knife and gently picked up the glittering, pointy circle of gold that Phil had just given him. It had small, colorful rocks in it, and he couldn't tear his eyes away from how they sparkled. It was _beautiful._

"What do you think?" Phil asked him. "The gold was Wilbur's idea, and I thought a crown might suit you."

Gold. They had worked together to give him gold. Something _settled_ deep in his chest at that thought, and suddenly, the tears spilled over and he was crying too.

The positions reversed: Phil wrapped his wings around them again, but this time it was Techno clinging to Wilbur.

He pulled away after a minute, just to look at his gold. A crown, Phil had called it.

"May I?" Phil asked gently, holding out a hand for it.

If it was anyone else, except maybe Wilbur, Techno would have said no. He probably would have tried to bite them. But it wasn't anyone else, it was Phil, so he handed the crown over with only a little bit of hesitation.

Phil smiled at him, then set the crown carefully on top of Techno's head. "There we go, very regal. It's a little big on purpose, so you have room to grow into it."

It felt _good,_ wearing gold like that. It felt good and right and natural, like his gold sword, like picking up bits of gold whenever he could. It felt even better knowing it came from people he cared about.

And sitting there on the living room floor, a crown on his head, surrounded by feathers and empty boxes and the two people he loved, Techno had never felt more whole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They used the fish to make fish stew for dinner :)


	13. What Now?

"What do we do now?"

It was a fair question; Dream had shown his face to an entire village, then escaped from under the constable's nose, and their campsite wasn't all that far away. They would almost certainly be found when the villagers began searching for him, which would likely be soon, since the sun was starting to peek between the tree branches.

"We keep going," Bad said matter-of-factly, scraping dirt over the remains of their tiny campfire. "Just like always."

"... I don't want to keep running," Dream admitted very quietly, hugging his knees to his chest. He hadn't put his mask back on yet.

Bad's gaze softened. "I know. And you won't have to run forever, just until they calm down."

Sapnap nodded. "They're dumb if they think they can force you to do things, you're too cool for that. And besides, we're here to protect you!"

"Thanks, Sapnap," Dream mumbled, unable to keep a smile off of his face. The tears from last night seemed to have transformed into energy, and his positivity was infectious. It felt... really good to hear that people wanted to protect him, even if it came from a scrappy little kid. The intent was the same.

"We should probably avoid towns for a while, just to be safe," George pointed out, glancing up from polishing his glasses. "Word will probably get out, so we should stick to the woods as much as possible."

Dream nodded, taking his mask out of his inventory and putting it back on. "Agreed. I don't think I'll be much help with foraging, but I can hunt well enough."

"I can take care of foraging," Bad assured him. "Does everyone have everything?"

They all nodded.

"Then let's get out of here."

Dream automatically moved to take the lead, then stopped himself and waited for Bad to take over. They wouldn't want him leading after that trainwreck.

But Bad just smiled and gestured for him to go in front.

After glancing at the other two and seeing no objection, Dream hesitantly took the lead. He'd managed to take a glimpse of a map while he'd been in town, so he angled a little to the right, knowing that the forest thinned to the left. They needed tree cover for as long as they could get it.

Things shifted in the days after Dream's revelation. Not much - less than he was expecting - but they did shift. George just told him quietly one day that he understood why Dream hadn't said anything, and he didn't really care that he had rich parents, Dream was still an idiot sometimes. Sapnap demanded to know what it was like growing up rich, and listened to those stories just as starry-eyed as he did regular stories. Bad's behavior didn't change much at all.

And Dream started to take off his mask sometimes. He didn't do it often; having the mask on was comforting by now, not only for anonymity, but just by virtue of wearing it so much. It felt like an extra layer of protection. He took it off to sleep, though, which he hadn't dared to do before.

A few days after they left that village, it started to rain.

At first, Dream didn't know what to do. His first instinct was to _get inside,_ he couldn't get wet, he would be in so much trouble - but he forced himself to breathe, remembering that he wasn't at home anymore, and being under the trees was as much shelter as they could get at the moment.

Sapnap whooped, running around and laughing and trying to catch raindrops on his tongue. He looked like a _kid,_ even more than usual, and Dream's heart ached.

"Oh," Bad said softly, and when Dream turned to look at him, he had a sort of bittersweet expression on his face. "Dream, your mask."

The charcoal. Dream took it off quickly, shielding it as much as he could, but it was too late. There were streaks through the face Sapnap had drawn, and it almost looked like it was crying.

"It's fine, I'll deal with it later," Dream decided, putting the mask in his inventory and resolutely ignoring the fact that it was not at all fine.

"Dream!!" Sapnap called, running up and tugging on Dream's sleeve. "C'mon, come catch rain with me!!"

Dream hesitated, glancing over at Bad. They really should keep moving.

Bad shook his head fondly. "Go on, it's okay."

"I've never done this before," Dream warned Sapnap, slowly following the tug on his sleeve.

"That's okay, I'll show you!" Sapnap pulled him into a nearby clearing and let go of him, beaming face tilted up toward the sky. "Just get as many drops to hit you as you can."

Dream hesitantly copied his pose, looking up at the rain, which was starting to turn into a downpour. He held his hands out slightly to let the rain hit his palms.

Sapnap laughed and started running around the clearing, jumping into puddles that were starting to form, but Dream just stood there, taking it in. He felt at peace, almost, like the water hitting his skin was washing away the thoughts constantly running through his head. It wasn't like anything he'd ever felt before.

"Well?" Sapnap demanded, running up to him, still grinning.

Dream blinked at him, then laughed. It was sudden, and it surprised him almost as much as it surprised Sapnap. "It feels really nice."

"Come on then, follow me!!" Sapnap darted away, and after only a moment of hesitation, Dream followed.

As Sapnap led him around the clearing, weaving around trees, jumping over puddles, Dream found his hesitance melting away; he laughed along with Sapnap, spun around in the rain of his own volition, and easily followed Sapnap's lead stomping into puddles. At one point, he even cut entirely loose and _sprinted,_ laughing at the joy of mud under his boots and rain in his face.

When they finally got tired, Dream pulled Sapnap away from the clearing and into a little shelter Bad and George had set up in the meantime, with a tiny fire burning in the middle of it. The two boys quickly changed into dry clothes and huddled around the fire, shivering but happy.

"Dry your hair, you muffinheads," Bad scolded them, handing them each a towel. "You're going to catch a cold!"

"Muffinheads?" Dream echoed with a grin, starting to dry off his hair as best he could.

Sapnap just sort of draped the towel over his head and patted it. "Bad likes saying muffin."

Bad rolled his eyes and leaned over to ruffle Sapnap's hair to dry it properly, but there was affection in it.

Once he was warm and mostly dry, Dream took his mask out of his inventory to examine it. He had been right in his initial assessment; the charcoal was too smudged to keep. He stuck the mask outside of their little shelter for a moment, letting the rain wash off the rest of the lines, then brought it back in and carefully dried it off.

"Oh." Sapnap's voice was small and sad as he stared at the pristine white mask. "I... didn't think about that."

Dream tapped the edge of the mask thoughtfully, then put it back on and handed Sapnap a piece of charcoal. "I don't think I like it being blank."

Sapnap gasped excitedly, almost knocking his towel into the fire in his haste to hurry over and take the charcoal. His demeanor shifted into something more serious as he took it, though, and he drew just as carefully as last time, brow furrowed and tongue sticking out in concentration. Dream was struck once again by that odd feeling of vulnerability.

When he was done, Sapnap leaned back and held out the charcoal, but Dream shook his head. "You'll need it for next time."

"Next time?"

Dream nodded, smiling slightly as he took off his mask to admire the new smiley face on it. "You said you like listening to my stories because I'm the one telling them, right?"

Sapnap nodded slowly.

"Well, I like having drawings on my mask because you're the one who drew them. And when they wear off or wash off, I can just ask you to do another one," Dream explained with a grin.

Sapnap's eyes widened, and he held the charcoal to his chest like it was a sacred thing. "Oh. Oh, okay, yeah, I can do that!"

Later, when the fire died down and Sapnap was asleep, Bad smiled at Dream. "You made his day with that, you know. Asking him to redraw it."

"I meant what I said," Dream said with an awkward shrug. "It's... I don't know, it's nice that he wants to."

"You could probably make an enchantment to make it permanent," George suggested.

Dream glanced down at Sapnap and carefully ran his fingers through the younger boy's hair, trying not to wake him. "Probably. Once he gets bored of doing it, though, not now. I think it means too much right now."

"Yeah, Sap looked like you'd handed him a diamond when you told him to hang onto the charcoal," George said with a snort.

"He's a good kid," Dream said quietly, still running his fingers through Sapnap's hair.

Bad nodded, smiling. "He really is. You are too, you know."

"That's what Ms Goodwyn said."

"Ms Goodwyn?" George asked, raising an eyebrow.

"My tutor," Dream explained. "She's the one who told me to leave. I liked her."

Bad gently tapped Dream's leg with his tail. "I think I'd like her too. She sounds nice."

"Yeah, she is." Ms Goodwyn had been one of the few good things about living in that house. Dream wondered what she was doing now; he hoped it was something good. She deserved to be doing something good.

"Well, you two can keep chatting, but I'm tired," George announced, curling up under a blanket and closing his eyes. He would be asleep soon, Dream knew - one of George's specialties was falling asleep quickly.

Bad chuckled and got under his own blanket. "It is getting pretty late. Good night, Dream."

"Good night." Dream hesitated for just a moment before pulling a blanket over himself and Sapnap, curling around him to make sure he stayed warm.

Today had been really good. It had been a long time since he'd had fun like that, and he couldn't remember having fun _with_ someone... ever. Or at least with someone who wasn't imaginary. And Sapnap had just effortlessly dragged him in, pulled him out of his shell, showed him how to have fun. He really was a good kid.

And they were friends now, Dream realized. Really and truly they were friends. He buried his smile in Sapnap's hair and drifted off with happiness warming him up from the inside out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And FINALLY Dream realizes! Now he just has to realize that he's friends with Bad and George :)


End file.
